Unlikely Companions
by Erosion Has Started
Summary: Sorkolis is the Archon of the King Banner. Ravenwood is one of the strongest Titans on the tower. During a skirmish, the two are captured by a Hive Dropship and taken to the deep. However, the two are forced to work with one another if they are to escape, and they may need to make the decision sooner than they'd like. (Warning: Long Chapters)
1. Deception

"Unlikely Companions"

Chapter One:

Deception

" _No. Not again."_

Sorkolis looked up at the sound of his Kell's voice, her vocalization shaking as she watched, terrified, her seldom ships subsiding into the darkness below as the cannons from the other Houses' Skiffs rattled them into the world beneath the Ketch they were standing on.

"This just happened. I thought we were safe."

The Archon picked himself to his unyielding legs as he approached his leader's side, four blue-white eyes fixed on her massively distressed frame.

"My liege–" he began.

The Kell turned to him and aimed her Shrapnel Launcher at Sorkolis' head. "No! I won't have any more from you."

"What do you think you are doing?" the Archon pressed, stepping forward as he crossed his lower arms together.

Turning on the Priest, the House of King's Kell snarled, "All I am trying to do is keep my House safe from the Winter Kell and his fleet. But no matter where I go, he always finds us." Turning to scrutinize off into the deep, the King's Kell tightened her seizure on the weapon.

Sorkolis stepped forward and attempted to pry the gun from her upper hands. "And you've done a great job at making sure we are safe. Honorable warriors are dying down there."

The Kell bared her teeth as she shook her helmeted cranium, adornments on that accessory rattling at the subtle movements. "Apparently not." She flexed her lower right hand and gestured to the siege below the Ketch they were standing in.

Sighing, the Archon took a step closer in his second chance to pulling the weapon out of the Kell's grip. "Let go," he breathed.

Giving up, the Kell let go of the Shrapnel Launcher and pulled her hands, violently, away from the Archon standing behind her. She sighed as she collapsed on the Mother Board, her mind reeling with grief.

Approaching forward, Sorkolis barked, "Just gather the rest of the Fleet and find us a new place to harbor for a short while."

"No!" reprimanded the Kell, her fingers twitching with silent infuriation. "I cannot accept those… those _Van Car-a'nt_ to find us again. That is just something I cannot do."

Sorkolis demanded, "What are you saying? Stay and do nothing but watch the Skiffs fall?"

Turning on the Archon, the Kell revealed her perilously gleaming teeth and spat, " _Ganh Ra-nis!_ What are you proposing we do?"

"You are the _Kell!_ The one that is supposed to make these decisions!"

"Then I am no longer eligible for the role," the Kell snarled, lowering her massive head with shame.

Sorkolis stepped forward and worked one of his upper hands on the Kell's shoulder. "I know your mind will come to the right thing," he whispered as he stepped away from his leader's wintery touch.

The Kell pivoted and reached for the keyboard, narrowing her eyes as she glanced back at her Throne several feet away. "I suppose we can go…" she started reluctantly.

"Where to?" questioned Sorkolis, giving the Shrapnel Launcher he held a better home on the side of the crate than in his leader's twitching hands.

"Earth. To the Cosmodrome." The Kell sufficed another stare back out the window as vermilion and crimson streaks flashed across the low light of the stars; the presence of dead Fallen lingered in the night.

Tilting his gargantuan head, the Archon slung his arms across as he studied his leader. "Why there?" he pressed.

"Because hardly any Fallen reside there. We would be safe for a short while." The Kell began typing the coordinates to her destination.

"May the rest of the warriors here die with honor," soothed Sorkolis, drawing his eyes away from the window, still harboring dead soldiers. Nary could a one word describe his extensive guilt.

The Kell looked up, her four blue-white eyes twinkling leniently. "Do not feel responsible, Sorkolis. You did what you could."

"I know that," the Priest reprimanded her. "I just wished it could have been more." Residing his eyes down from her piercing glare, the Archon avoided eye contact at any further notice.

Curling edgily one of the corners of her lips, the Kell pulled her forearms away from the machinery as she approached her loyal Archon. "It was plenty," she reassured.

Sorkolis snorted and said nothing further.

Turning away, the King Kell focused back on the ship as it drifted away from the station she had previously docked it at. As the Ketch pulled further from the siege, the sinking of Skiffs slowly got tinier and tinier until it disappeared altogether.

Sorkolis got back to studying ancient House of Demons artifacts.

As the time slowly crawled, the Archon Priest observed the orange artifacts with intrigue, but lacking the proper dissecting tools. Distressed, Sorkolis fumbled a hand to his large head as the throbbing there increased with his frustration.

The Kell looked up from her work as she noticed her ally in an emotional state, and she snorted and gestured to the gate leading downstairs. At his quizzical glance, she made herself more coherent.

"Get some of the remedy on the bottom deck. It will make your aches feel better." Without taking her eyes from the screen, the Kell typed up more information on the Mother Board with her svelte fingers.

Sorkolis sniffed, unimpressed. "I need not remedies to soothe my pain," he growled.

"Then what is your solution?" questioned the Kell, briefly looking up from her work.

"The security of your House is my answer," the Archon responded drily.

Scowling, the King Kell drew her hands away from the keyboard again and crossed both sets of arms. "We will have arrived undetected at Earth within the next hour. The safety of the House of Kings should be there."

Stepping forward, the Priest scoffed, "Then that will treat my wound." He gestured to the right with his head. "Go rest. I shall commandeer the Ketch to the Cosmodrome."

The Kell bit back a rude retort, a muscle feathering in her right eyes. "You expect me to just lay down after what I just experienced?" She drew her arms away and placed them behind her slender frame, fingers tapping on the metal keyboard.

"I suppose not," snorted the Archon, glancing to his left as a quick shade of vermilion passed across his rough, gray-brown face.

"Good," conceded the Kell, turning back around as she used her long, four arms to commandeer the Ketch again. "Let me get back to work."

Sorkolis stepped away from the leader of the House of Kings and ran his svelte fingers over the soft fabric of his golden cloak. The linen slipped away from under his grip, and he turned back around to face the orange artifact he'd been previously working on.

Readjusting his daffodil-hued helmet adorned with serrated spikes and parallel edges, Sorkolis focused back on the ancient talisman before him, and soon found himself slumped over in a chair with his lower arms holding the object of interest still and with the higher ones dissecting the interior of the intriguing find.

The din of the low-lit lanterns in the command deck gave a gentle glow to the atmosphere, and the soft rustle of tattered papers and the heavy chink of machinery, though silent, sounded throughout the empty room holding only two Fallen warriors – the Kell and her Archon Priest.

After about three minutes of study, a flicker at the corner of his four eyes aroused the Archon from his work, and he swerved his head to get a better visual on the source of the ravishing gleam.

It was Earth. The cyan, white, and viridescent structure twinkled as the outline of the majestic, burning sun was silhouetted against it.

Glancing to his right to focus back at the frame of the Kell, Sorkolis noticed her eyes searching the landscape of the spherical world, observing its color, shape, size, and nature. Although invisible it actually was, the Archon knew what was equal to a smile must have crossed her face. Not a happy smile – a proud smile.

"Perfect," she growled, drawing her search away from Earth. "The Cosmodrome – a wonderful place to begin hiding."

The Priest hesitated. "Hiding?" he restated, fumbling his fingers to his side. "You said we were running here, not hiding."

Snorting, the Kell looked up and crossed her lower pair of arms. "I changed my mind. The House of Winter will never find us here. If they do, we will fight for Earth. The King Banner shall rise."

"That's not a good idea. Do you plan of just staying away from the Guardians as well?"

Nodding, the Kell retorted, "Yes. It shall be a perfect spot. Away from everyone."

The Archon snarled, "We will surely be caught sometime soon."

"Now, that's what I planned not to happen. We'll find a way."

Sighing, for he knew the Kell was a stubborn one, Sorkolis just looked away.

The leader of the King Banner looked behind her, bitterness on her hidden expression. "Don't be vehement."

Curling his fingers furiously, Sorkolis spat, "The House of Kings do not hide! We are _Fallen,_ my liege!"

"I know," the Kell snarled. "But it is time we found different tactic as we rebuild society."

Sorkolis growled, "On Earth?"

Wheeling around to face her follower, the leader started, "Yes! On Earth! Whatever is the problem?"

The Archon just sighed and snorted, "We are subject to the last city. To… Guardians."

" _Kan-ruo, Visi'na corolois!"_ cursed the Kell.

Wincing from her harsh tone, Sorkolis just gestured to Earth and nodded. "I follow you, Rikantor, the King Kell, to Earth. Anyone denying this opportunity to rise is not only a fool but a new member of the Exile Banner."

"Good," conceded the leader of the House of Kings. "Rally the dock team and lower the Ketch to the station I've plotted on the coordinate grid. I'll… I'll see you soon." She offered a weak nod of her graceful head.

The Archon returned her gesture and began his voyage to the deck below.

"Oh yes," added the Kell, her voice placid. "And may you gather our supplies as well? I intend to stay here for a while."

Again, the Priest submitted with his massive, resistant, yellow-hued helmet and subsided to the lowly-lit, empty, brown-tinted hallways.

* * *

"There. The rest of the Fleet have been dispatched at the Cosmodrome. You may come out, my liege."

It was a frosty day in Old Russia. The soft glisten of sunshine on the sparkles of snow promised good weather as the rest of the House of King's fleet pressed on into their new hideout. The tatters of ripped, golden banners flailed in the unyielding wind as a soft current of wintery air passed over the Refinery.

The Kell thrust out of the Ketch that some Dregs on board were still tending to. Her yellow armor sparkled in the sun majestically. Those metal-clad limbs absorbed the beauty from the scene as she passed her blue-white eyes across the courtyard.

"Good," she rasped as she dropped off the last feeble step of the dock platform, facing Sorkolis with an impassive glare. "What did the Barons tell you about the landscape when they were off scouting?"

" _Ghanrudar. Van Car-a'nt_ are nowhere in sight, as far as we know." Gesturing with his winding, armored palms, the Archon reassured, "You picked a magnificent location."

The Kell snorted in approval and drew her sword. "No detections of Guardians, either?" she pushed, her eyes narrowed as she gazed across the ribbons of landscape unfolding before her illuminated eyes. At the Archon's curled lip, she added huskily, "The other Houses aren't the only thing that matters."

Sorkolis dipped his head. "I don't believe so. The King Barons never said anything about human traces."

"That's all I needed to know," confirmed the Kell as she shoved by the Archon and breached the incline to the Refinery's entrance. The Archon watched her go with a glisten of sorrow in his twinkling eyes, and he fought the sigh that resided deep in his muscular chest.

Wrapping his hand tighter around his Shrapnel Launcher, he lifted it up with his two larger, higher hands and picked his way after the leader. On his journey to the entrance a Baron stepped out, followed by two Vandals cloaked in golden drapes.

"What do you want?" demanded Sorkolis as he studied the Fallen warriors.

The Baron, only slightly larger than a Captain of the Fleet, retorted, "The Kell announced that you must lead a patrol to the border of the Terrestrial Complex to scout for Guardians. She said one of the solar panels detected heat signatures down there."

Twitching his neck muscles, the Archon growled, "Why would an Archon take leader for a scouting unit?"

"It's what she wants," the Baron replied, a respectful din to his handsome tone. "There are five Pikes left on the Ketch that we can use to get down there. The Terrestrial Complex, she added, through radio-waves and frequency amplifiers, has been noted to have a patrol team down there. She wants to know if the readings are accurate."

Lifting the Shrapnel Launcher, the Archon responded drily, "Then let's not have her disappointed. Obtain the Pikes and meet me at the dispatch zone."

"Right away, sir," directed the Baron loyally, before rallying the Vandals to subside to the Vehicle Drop.

Turning away from the four other Fallen, Sorkolis sought out the Inferior Sector Link, the chip he would install into a hard drive slot at the edge of the territory, if he could find a link input somewhere at the border. Keeping it handy, he inserted the disk into his slanted belt, and tightened the linen holding it together before he approached his meeting location.

Since the Pikes were tacked and unhooked from the Vehicle Drop, the Archon mounted his personal vehicle – the small brown ones were too miniscule to hold his gargantuan mass – and started the engine.

Small lights of purple and green flashed across his line of sight as the gears started, and the massive Priest slipped his heavily armored legs into the foot pockets, testing the brakes with caution. When all seemed in check, he moved his Shrapnel Launcher to his lower arms and used his higher ones to put his stronger limbs on the handles.

The patrol started out into the frosted wasteland of Old Russia. The Cosmodrome had clouds rolling high overhead, the righteous flicker of brown and silver passed Sorkolis' line of sight as he watched the ground ahead of him.

The Pikes steered in and out of rocks, spires, and plane debris as they neared the border. Since there were no tracks in the snow that indicated that hardly anyone was back here at the Terrestrial Complex. Soothed, the Archon settled his tense muscles as he steered his resistant, golden Pike over the wandering hills.

Tattered, golden cloaks flagged in the sunshine as the vehicles pulled on, bursts of vermilion contrasted with brass streaks tearing across the open sky as the Pikes swerved in and out of towering structures. Ancient remains of building were still hung in the open air, and scattered rubble drifted away from those old human remnants as it aged older than it was three seconds ago.

Readjusting his yellow-hued gas-mask with one of his free hands, the Archon looked out across the Complex, its beauty little, but intriguing. Perhaps the ancient House of Demons will have artifacts here, Sorkolis guessed.

As the buildings faded from sight, the only remains were soon that of rusted ships washed up from disaster and desperation. Half of what was actually left had already been searched and torn up. The Pikes were steered to the right of these shipwrecks, avoiding direct contact with anyone wanting to investigate there.

Soon the silhouette of the border rose in the blazing afternoon sky. Unyielding legs crashed into the compact snow as the Archon dismounted from his metal, golden Pike. Narrowing his white-blue eyes, the leader of the scout unit looked out across the empty land for life.

"There is nothing here," rumbled Sorkolis, reaching down for his Shrapnel Launcher.

One of the Vandals was running his bandaged hands down his long, golden cape symbolized with the mark of the Kings. "Shall we post?" he asked.

The Archon snorted, "I doubt that'd be a necessary movement."

"Better safe than sorry," added the Baron, slinging his own Shrapnel Launcher over the armored part of his shoulder to equip it to the strap on his back.

"I could bring it up with the Kell," Sorkolis conceded, his eyes flitting to the edge of the mountainous range of hills.

The Vandal who'd been affirming his cape suggested, "The frequency amplifiers are usually never inaccurate. Do you think the Guardians could have moved?"

"No," growled Sorkolis. "There would have been tracks. These are the direct coordinates."

Sniffing in, the Vandal pointed down the incline and offered, "It did just snow."

The Archon looked down the hill and noticed broken bits of shrub nestled in the corner of some rubble. Skirting down the slope, he paused, inadvertently sloshing some snow on the Baron's muscular frame, which emerged protest from him.

Ignoring the complaint, Sorkolis worked the stick in his two fingers and held it up so all the members of the scout could better observe it.

"So, there were humans," the Baron concluded, flinging his arms together.

"Correct," the Priest said, crunching the shrub to pieces in his hands. "That does mean that we should post."

One of the Vandals dispatched from the group and slugged up the incline to reach his muddled, brown Pike. "I will return to the Kell and inform her of intruders in the Terrestrial Complex. The four of you keep going." With that, he started the Pike and revved off.

Sorkolis suppressed his growl, looking for intel along the serrated peaks of the Cosmodrome's hills and mountains. Far away, the waves along the coast crashed against the jagged rocks guarding the mainland. Silence for what seemed like a sky-length hushed over the scout patrol.

"You heard Tilakis," the Baron resounded, his blue-white eyes gleaming. "We have to keep finding clues of human presences here."

The Archon turned to the smaller form of the Fallen, twitching his golden-and-silver helmet as he studied the Baron. "We have found enough. You can even smell the reek of the Guardians here. What is there that is yet to be found?"

"I don't know," admitted the Baron. "Something."

Dissatisfied with that answer, the Archon turned away from the rubble scattered with shrouds of shrubbery and broken sticks. The Vandals that hadn't gone back with the other one started making their ways back to the Pikes.

Tightening his seizure on the Shrapnel Launcher so tightly his knuckles turned white, Sorkolis made tracks across the open landscape as well, keeping his head faced outward to pinpoint any stray Guardians along the hills. Luckily, none of them were found, and silence followed the clearing as silvery wisps of wind and snow settled over the disengaged vehicles.

The Archon's didn't mount his golden Pike up right away, but gyrated to look out across the long, windy slope of the peaks in the distance. The ascension of the sun in the midday sky had climaxed, and was now winding its way down to the ground again.

Finally engaging in his Pike, the Fallen Archon rebooted the system hardwire, activated the amplifiers, and rolled off the hills.

With the scout team following, they swerved across the landscape, tailors flapping in the wind as the three soldiers, one Priest, sailed majestically across the snowy, waste-ridden Earth.

As the scenes of the unknown world unfolded before the scout unit, the sun tipped even further beyond its hold in the sky until it has subsided from view altogether. Riding out along the narrow swerves of the hills, the snowy cliffs provided some cover from any disruptions as the expert team evaded shards of metal, brass, shrubbery, and sticks sitting in the way.

Squinting across the mist-blanketed courtyard, the celestial moon rose up over its sheathe in the sky and settled in the air. Sorkolis fought on in the nighttime, returning home to the King Banner welcoming him with open arms.

* * *

There was silence as the news was taken in, then…

"What do you mean, you found something?"

The Kell was perched on her Throne, fingers drumming at her armored legs. She harbored a look of pure, undeniable loathing and revulsion on her face, though she appeared as though trying to remain impassive.

"Hold on," the Baron said. "Wasn't Tilakis supposed to return with these news?"

One of the Vandals nodded. "Yes. You mean he never came to notify the Kell?"

The Vandal to the right of the Kell, the Kell's guard, shook his head. "Tilakis never made it back at all," he admitted sourly, his sword trembling in his hands.

"You mean he never returned?" repeated the Baron.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," the Kell's guard confirmed, unease embedded in his righteous tone.

The same Vandal that had spoken before agreed, "That is unfortunate news."

"So Tilakis was felled…" the Kell turned to face Sorkolis, both sets of arms crossed. "You let him off on his own in hostile territory?"

Gulping with embarrassment, the Archon admitted, "We never saw anything on the way there. I thought it was safe."

"Apparently not," agreed the Baron, a scowl on his face, though invisible to the others it was.

"He offered to come here. We never saw a Pike as we returned, so we figured he'd made it back." The Archon looked back out as the frosty snowstorm was taking over the sky. Soon, the scene was overwhelmed by the snowy atmosphere.

The low lighting of the Kell's Throne room prevented any sight out of range of twenty feet away from you. Sorkolis found this frustrating as he attempted to focus on the Kell's revolted face, her helmet mostly covering her expression.

Sighing, the Baron turned to leave, but with a reprimanding tone, the Kell forbid him to abandon her presence until the questioning was ended officially.

"So what did you find?" pressed the Kell, unfolding her arms to rest them on the golden armrests of her tattered Kings Throne.

The Baron waited for anyone to speak up, but when they didn't he sighed and offered himself instead.

"We located a few broken shrubs at the real edge of the Terrestrial Complex. But a snowstorm happened right before we entered, and it appeared as though the frequency amplifiers were wrong. But it turns out, Tilakis' death proves this… that it was right."

The Kell snarled, "So they are closer than we think. You may all go." She gestured for the door.

As the House of Kings warriors turned to leave, the leader of the House finally pointed to Sorkolis.

"You – stay."

Pausing, the Archon turned around and returned the ugly glares the Kell's Guard were giving him. He approached the tattered Throne and bent down, uncomfortably on one knee, his eyes searching the Kell's own. "What is it you may request, my liege?"

"You can stand," she huffed in exasperation.

Getting to his unyielding legs, the Archon swiped himself off before lifting his helmeted cranium to focus his attention back on the impatient Kell before him.

"Explain," she started, holding back her obvious anger. "You were the leader of the patrol. I was expecting more from you. You never disappoint."

Fumbling, the Archon started, "Like I said, we were exploring, he said he would come back to get some guards out there. Not much else left to say."

Sighing, for she was clearly hoping for a better answer, the Kell clutched her head in agony. "Just go," she breathed, waving her lower hand to the door as she gripped her ravishing cranium.

Silently, Sorkolis started to slip away from the Kell's presence, but turned back once to look at her distressed shape.

"Are you okay?" he decided instead, concern lacing his tone in ribbons.

Looking up, the Kell growled, "I'm fine. Just leave, for _Tan'ru-kis'_ sake."

Edging out of the Throne room, Sorkolis shut the door behind him, leaving the Kell with her Guard, who loyally perched beside the Throne for any intruders.

The snowstorm had picked up in rate by the time the Archon glanced back out the window with his searching eyes. The wintery landscape, once green and brown with the promise of good weather, had been scraped of any character and now remained a dry bone, barren of any flavor.

What Sorkolis really wanted to do was explore the House of Demons artifact closer, but he knew that was out of the option. Slinging his Shrapnel Launcher over his arm, the Archon decided he would go out and try to find Tilakis.

Maybe, he wasn't really dead. This was a new territory, after all. He might have been lost. Especially since there was no proof he had been felled. There was no Pike. But it would take an eon to find a missing Fallen in the depths of the snowstorm, but with such light gear, Tilakis could not have been expected to survive.

Readjusting his gas-mask, he flagged the cape around him as he made his way to the Vehicle Drop, ready to tack up his golden Pike for the search.

Maybe then, the Kell would not be so disappointed with him. He always got butterflies in his stomach when the leader was angry with him – he wasn't sure about the feeling, but he knew that the leader and himself were close. Sorkolis brushed off one of his shoulders as he padded down the stairs, searching for the Vehicle Drop.

Sorkolis decided he didn't want to risk the lives of any of the other Fallen, so he went alone instead. Turning away from the vacant scene, he opened the door to the drop and stepped in cautiously, flickering on the dim lighting.

The golden Pike was untacked at the side of the dispatch zone, and he hooked it up before he accelerated out and into the thick snow beyond.

Instead of the dazzling sky and beautiful hills just an hour before, the entire landscape was covered with fluffy white snow, stretching for as far as the eye could see. The sky rolled high overhead, promising more snow the further the Archon went out.

Sorkolis eyed the ridge of the hill, his four eyes wishing that he could find Tilakis better. But no matter where he searched, the Vandal was hidden from prying eyes. All the Archon Priest wished at this point was to impress his leader, Rikantor. He had already been depressed at letting the Vandal go in the first place, and he should have stuck with his senses.

However, no matter how much that nagged at his side, Sorkolis refused to let the past bother him. His only objective was getting the Vandal back home safely…

If he wasn't already dead.

 _Please don't be dead._

 _I can't let you die. This for you…_

 _And… the Kell._

As much as he hated to admit it, he felt something for Rikantor. He didn't know if it was friendship or… something greater than that. He was still volatile in his decision, but he couldn't help but get those butterflies, or the want to reach out and comfort the Kell when she was distressed.

But that was impossible! He had a dilemma on his head for a short while, before he knocked it out of his brain with brute force. The only thing that he should have been focusing on was to get that Vandal back home.

However, the feat turned rough as he maneuvered the slopes, his cape winding spirals behind him, the icy landscape turned to ashes and bone. The atmosphere lacked color, and the sky was turning darker at every turn. A sense made Sorkolis want to turn and go back to the Kings' campsite, but determination pressed him on.

Thunder cracked in the sky, a flicker of electricity belted out of nowhere, striking against the sea far away.

 _This is useless! He could be anywhere._

But if that Vandal was alive, he would not be for long unless he had found shelter underneath some of those rusted metal planes that the Archon had found when the Ketch had flown over the Mothyard.

A canyon to the right might have provided some shelter for the Fallen Vandal. Maybe Tilakis thought he could find security under one of the arches from the rocky overhangs. Swerving the golden Pike right and into the disastrous zone, he kept his eye for any openings in the stone for caves that might have been large enough to fit a Pike in.

However, there was nothing except for stone gray walls, and the quick, silver flurries of snow that momentarily passed across Sorkolis' line of sight. Frustrated, he threw himself off of his Pike and landed in the waist-high snow.

Pounding his fury into the watery sea of white, he collapsed as he took a few final blows, for even the snow had given him his own beating.

Pulling himself together, he tossed around until he was on his back and gazing up into the spiraling sky. Sorkolis had to go on – he knew it. Pulling himself to his legs, he brushed off the few specks of snow off of his armor and tilted his neck awkwardly. What was he doing? He had to keep moving.

But… he had seemed to have misplaced his Shrapnel Launcher in the snow.

 _Rian-ka Osjar!_ A nasty curse, if there ever was one.

The Pike, getting lost in the waves of snow, was crashed beside a rock next to the canyon wall, and Sorkolis approached it warily, his vehement eyes scanning the solid golden vehicle as with every moment it became more absorbed in the deep.

Placing all four hands on the golden Pike to move it, the Priest wrenched it out of the socket it which it had been embedded, and he thrust it out of the snowy enclave, brushing off the armor and propellers as he studied it for any major distortions. But it seemed intact, for the most part, and he climbed back on it, resettling his head to focus.

He hoped that the Kell wasn't looking for him, or anyone for that matter. His absence had been unannounced, and if the Archon returned with no one by him, then Sorkolis knew he'd be in for it.

Looking up into the husky gray sky, he reached down with his right, lower arm and pulled out a knife from his belt as a weapon. Repulsive that his beloved Shrapnel Launcher was lost in the snow, he inserted both legs into the pockets and flipped on the gears, but the dark monitors remained their bland color.

The engine had died.

Sighing for his mistakes, Sorkolis pulled himself off the vehicle and plopped back down into the snow. Something vital in the interior must have been scathed. The golden Pike was no good now. If he wanted to have it repaired without having a three-day search in the snow, he'd need to drag it back.

Sticking his upper left hand into the satchel, the Priest pulled out the Inferior Sector Link and eyed it. Perhaps if he found an ancient outpost out here, he might be able to contact the Fleet without having to visually notify them. It was worth a shot.

Enveloping the chip into his palm as he wrapped his fingers together in a tight fist-clench, Sorkolis waded through the snow to the side of the canyon walls, prodding his gas-mask to a more comfortable position on his face. His blue-white eyes scanned the ridge for any signs of that Pike Tilakis might have left behind, but since his own much larger vehicle was already getting consumed in the fronds of the deep, the Archon couldn't doubt that the Vandal's vehicle was gone.

Lost to time itself.

Sniffing in the vacant emptiness, holding the knife out with his lower right hand, the Archon pressed on through the snowy cliffs. Perhaps Tilakis had not even come this way. It was a doubtful thing if there ever was one. Tilting his gargantuan head, the Archon searched the cliffs and took one last glance back at his golden Pike.

There had better have been an input link nearby. Fumbling for his serrated spikes on the back of the helmet mounted on his cranium, Sorkolis ploughed on the rough the depths of the wintery atmosphere, his eye trained on the ribbons of ash ahead of him.

The luxurious comforts of the embracing caverns sitting isolated to the right seemed comforting, but the Archon pressed on. The Kell would be shown the body of Tilakis, alive and well.

And… she would be impressed that Sorkolis had gone such a long way out into the blizzard for the search. Such a great find would surely make her proud. Raising his chin in determination, Sorkolis touched a lenient hand to the side of the rocky peaks as he felt for an incline that would maybe give way for a cave.

However, no matter the attempts that were made, all failed. Slinging his knife back in a posture to maim if the time need be, the Archon edged along the cavernous canyon, his gaze intent as he focused on the walk ahead.

To the left, there was the coast, with waves crashing furiously against the rock walls. The howl of the wind blanketed any other noises of reaching the Priest's ears, so the silence was not comforting.

Wishing he had never made the choice to go out in the darkness, the Archon pressed his back against the wall as a silent scream stifled all movements in the air. It was not the screech of a Fallen, thought Sorkolis with his relief. It was the scream of something else. A human scream? No, it could not have been.

So… what was it?

It had been screamed at the end of the canyon in which Sorkolis was now standing. It might have been a yell for help. Picking his walking speed into a mind-whirling run, using his unyielding legs, the Archon sped across the unstable terrain, reaching for his knife with unease.

Golden cape spinning vacantly behind him, daffodil-helmet searching for any signs of other noises, the Priest dashed majestically against the wind straining to hold him back. Their violent strikes did not halt Sorkolis as he sprinted against the crashing incline.

The ground become more fatal as the warrior of the Kings Banner raced furiously against the attempts of nature.

What had yelled? It surely had been anonymous, not anything he had ever heard. Or recognized, for that matter. Shivering quietly, for surely the air brought with it death, the Archon pelted forward, keeping his narrowed eyes on the quivering landscape as the trees howled madness.

Pausing against the chains holding him down, the Archon looked down as the incline halted halfway into the ground. The area stilled imperiously, and silence contained what remained of the overshadowed canyon.

Winter's fury had hesitated briefly, and Sorkolis took this a good chance to look out across the landscape, his head tilted at an angle for easier observations of his surroundings. Emerald twinkles flashed in the sky overhead, and the Archon looked up to see the lovely auroras happening in the air.

How nice.

Not using anything as distraction, the Archon waded out across the open as he paused beside a little hole in the side of the canyon. Inside, there was a crashed, brown Pike. Heart picking up, the Archon thrust into the hole and ducked beneath the jutting arches that might scrape at his cranium. Making sure he was well bent-over, the military official made his way through the cavern.

Suddenly, a moan sounded below him. There he was, Tilakis, laying on the ground with a wet pool of red blood soaking into his golden drapes. The Archon scanned him with his helmet, and found a few vital wounds along his sides.

"S-Sorkolis…" breathed the Vandal.

The Archon crouched down beside the felled warrior, his eye lenient in sympathy. Struggling against the encumbrance of death, the golden-cloaked Fallen was desperately holding on to life.

"Run… tell the Fleet… that…" It was too late. Tilakis had died.

Sorkolis paused, pressing his hand against the Fallen's head in a ritual of grief. "No…" he whispered.

Suddenly, a screech just like the last one sounded from right before him. Suddenly, scurries were heard on stone as hundreds of creatures must have been moving back there.

In a panic, Sorkolis raced for the entrance, heart pounding as he reached for his knife. Tilakis had been ripped apart. This was news for the whole Fleet. Instead, for evidence of his find, he paused by the entrance and picked up Tilakis over his hefty shoulder. Boarding the Pike that was much too small, and a bit broken for it flamed in the front, the Archon sped out of the area as he vanished, looking for his own golden one.

He soon came across it, only the tailors on the back that provided maneuverability were visible as it was hidden under its nest of snow. Pulling it out, the Archon dragged it through the ridged terrain, muscles rigid and stiff with immense power and effort as he pulled.

Once he was a notably safe spot from the canyon wall, the Archon climbed on the golden Pike again in another struggle to kick the engine to life. Using the electric swords on his belt, the Archon tried the last attempt to kick-start the vehicle to life.

With a coherent realization, the engines had flamed to life, sending spurs of green, purple, and golden across Sorkolis' field of vision. Grinning, he reached down to grab Tilakis and hoist him down with bands to the seat of the Pike, and soon they were on the way back to the campsite.

* * *

The Baron gasped in alarm once the Vandal's body had rolled down in front of him.

"What happened?" he asked, bending on one knee to look down at the dead Fallen.

Sorkolis dismounted his torn, golden Pike as he panted from the effort of getting back. As he untacked the vehicle, he growled, "Got ripped apart from a mysterious creature."

The Baron observed the body and ran his fingers across it. "What creature? Was Tilakis alive when you found him?"

"He died, warning me of something. He could never finish what he was about to say."

"Shame he died like this. He was a great warrior." The Baron scooped up the body of the felled soldier.

Sorkolis nodded. "Indeed. But don't carry that body yet," he added as he watched the Fallen picking up Tilakis.

The Baron was puzzled. "What else would I do with him?"

The Archon held out his upper right arm. "I will bring him to the Kell."

"Why would you do that?"

Sighing, Sorkolis insisted repulsively, "She needs to know."

"And you will do this by bringing her the body of Tilakis?" the Baron demanded. "Can't you just let her know? Tilakis needs to be put to rest."

Clenching his fists arrogantly, the Priest spat, "Now. Or the Prime Servitors shall punish you."

Now more than willing to oblige, the Baron handed the Archon the body of the Vandal. "Very well, sir."

As the growl subsided from the Archon's chest, he weaved through the Refinery's corridors to the Kell's Throne room. At least now she would be impressed, possibly, that he had gone out to find the body of Tilakis.

Two of the Kell's Guard were standing outside the metal door, their hands tightened over the broad helms of their electric swords. They noticed the Archon Priest at the entrance of the door, and they cross their lower arms together as they lifted their chins.

"What do you want?" one of them asked.

The other added, "Make it quick."

The Archon snarled and revealed Tilakis' body. "I have some information for the Kell. If you don't mind me having an audience with her."

"Just don't get ideas," the first Kell's Guard spat as he opened the metal door to the dimly-lit, rusted Throne room.

Sorkolis entered Rikantor's room, his golden cape falling after him as he ran his fingers gently through the Vandal's clothing. Then, he dropped the body on the floor.

Eyes wide, the Kell watched the bloody mess hit the golden rug. She looked at the other two guards beside the front and gestured for them to leave.

"But my liege," began the first one.

The Kell snarled, "Just do it!"

Sighing, the two of the Kell's Guard left, leaving the three Fallen, one dead, in the room with one another.

"Explain," the Kell growled impatiently.

Sorkolis offered for the leader of the House of Kings, "I went out to look for Tilakis. And it seemed as though I found him."

"So that's where you were…" snarled the Kell. "Do you not realize how… worried I was?"

The Archon went stiff and rigid. "I did this to prove a point, my liege."

"What made you think going out there was a good idea?" she ranted, her fingers twitching. "What if you'd died, too?"

Sorkolis bowed his head, shame written on his face. "I was… I thought it would make you happy."

The Kell laughed. "Happy?" she demanded, slumped on her Throne majestically, her golden armor twinkling in the din of the lights.

"Happy as in proud. I went into a… a blizzard, for the Overlord Servitor's sake, and yet you still loathe me!" The Archon leniently nudged aside the body of the felled warrior.

The Kell's face fell, and her vocalization was quiet. "Sorkolis…" she breathed. "I do not loathe you. I want you to be safe." She pulled herself off the Throne and approached her loyal follower.

The Archon snorted, not meeting her eye contact. Beckoning to the body, Sorkolis added, "He… tried to warn me of something before he died."

"What was that?" questioned the Kell.

Shaking his head, Sorkolis finished, "He could never quite make out the words until he moved on."

The House of Kings leader was hesitant for a brief moment, before she coiled her fingers and asked instead, "What was the killer of Tilakis?"

"A creature," the Archon said.

"What kind of creature?" Rikantor started.

Atrociously, the Archon spat, "I'm not sure, but they deserve to rot. To burn!"

The Kell nodded. "Yes, it does." Receding her lips, she added, "I will send a scout party in a few days to investigate."

"No Vandals or Dregs," ensured Sorkolis.

Rikantor shook her head. "Of course not," she murmured.

Sorkolis sighed. "Make sure you do not involve yourself in these creatures. They are not in the Terrestrial Complex."

"Why should I not? Anywhere on this Earth if there be a threat is to be eliminated."

"I want you alive, my liege. You are a good Kell. You deserve the opportunity to lead and make sure the Kings Banner does rise."

With her eyes scanning the Archon's face, the Kell made a dull look and snarled, roughly pulling away from Sorkolis. "Is that all you want?" she spat darkly. "To make sure our Banners shall be lifted in the breeze of the Cosmodrome?"

"No…" growled the Archon. "I want you to be safe."

Gesturing to the metal door, the Kell spat, "The Guard are here for that exact purpose. Do not worry, Sorkolis. I will be fine."

"Please make sure of that," begged the Archon. "Because–"

The door to the Kell's Throne room burst open as the Baron tumbled in. He paused as he noticed the two Fallen ahead of him so close together. "Did I just?" he started, a shade of red passing over his face.

"Er, no." To Sorkolis' disappointment, the Kell had pulled away and approached the Kings Baron ahead of them. "What is it you need?"

The Baron bent over to pick up the Vandal's body, shooting Sorkolis a furious glare. "I needed to retrieve Tilakis' corpse."

The Kell breathed, "Oh."

As the trusted Baron scooped up the limp form of the deceased Fallen, he purred, "So please, get back to what you were… uh." He glared at the Archon. "Doing."

"Nothing important," the Kell promised snidely.

The Baron left the room. As soon as Sorkolis had opened his mouth to speak again, one of the Kell's Guard opened the door.

"My liege," he obligated. "One of the Captains would like to see to you. He has a request on behalf of the honor of the Servitor Overlords."

Taking one quick look at Sorkolis, the Kell nodded and exited the room. The door shut, leaving the Archon alone with nothing to do except stare vacantly at the empty little Throne on the floor adorned with trophies of majestic kills.

Instead, the Archon decided he was going to study back on one of the House of Demons, the extinct house of legacy, and figure out what about them he could. He hoped the House of Devils had not picked through what they could find.

Since the Archon had taken a turn at a little room to the far side of the Refinery, he plopped down there and grabbed the orange artifact in his higher arms.

It was a mysterious thing for sure. The helmet of a Fallen Captain. He had worn an orange cape, clearly, and was one of the many strongest of the Fleet. He had consumed enough Ethic Light to grow to the size of an Archon.

Dissecting the cape, Sorkolis rubbed his fingers between it. Linens softer than silk. He brushed his hand across the mark of the Demons, but it was tattered and rubbed off. The only piece of what used to be a noble mark etched onto to the cape with golden lettering was now rubbed off like color on a bathing suit.

Sniffing in, for the cape smelled old and worn down, the Archon dragged a piece of a knife and cut out the mark. It was graceful despite its old nature.

Setting the mark aside, the Archon used his lower hand to hold the helmet down that the Captain wore and tested it for any of the old intel helmets of the Fallen wore. However, the helmet was dead to time itself, and it did not function.

Sighing, Sorkolis worked his way around the fabric lining the lenient outside of the Captain's helmet and rested it on a hook. There was no way he was taking that beautiful thing apart.

Deciding it was done work for a day, the Archon plopped down on a golden bed and rested his eyes down. Perhaps the Kell would have time for a conversation then. Without everyone else coming to butt in.

Crossing his arms behind his head, the Archon wondered benevolently why the Kell was so dedicated to his safety. Perhaps she saw him as a friend, too? Not just a worker that followed her into a fight?

Wishing it were true, the Priest summoned a quick prayer to the Overlord Servitors before he closed his eyes to get rest. The only thing that was important at this time was a good night's rest.

It was only as the bird's call in the depths of the morning that aroused the Archon from his rest. Rising to his feet, he exited the room in which was dedicated for his study, and watched a few Captains rushing in with wounded Vandals, arms and legs bandaged.

"What happened?" demanded the war official as one of the groups rolled by.

Another one of the Kings Barons, Yutis, replied, "These are the survivors of the attack in _Erde-Balane._ They happened to pick up our distress call, and they found their ways back home."

Snorting, Sorkolis asked, "Who sent a distress call?"

"Not sure," growled Yutis. "But they did a good job with it. At least fifteen percent of our Fleet is now back."

Startled, the Archon demanded, "The intergalactic compression did not consume them?"

Yutis shook his head and added, "It does not appear so."

Interested, the Archon watched as a bunch of Captains rushed by with Dregs on their shoulders. One of the few blue-haired mongrels had one of his two arms missing, and he yowled in his agony.

Disturbed by all the noise, one of the Kell's Guard peered out around the corner and stared at all the commotion. Pulling his lips backs in a revolted growl, he gyrated and cemented one of his hands to the spear he had seized in his palms. From when he turned, Sorkolis guessed he was going off to warn the Kell of the new arrivals.

But possibly were going to be treated like inmates.

As the Captains were ushered down the halls of the Refinery, another one of the Kell's Guard approached. It notified the Captain that the wounded warriors were to be given hospitality and were going to be housed on the lowest floor.

Saluting, the Captain used his four arms to steady the Dreg he had slung over his brute shoulders, and he guided the rest of the returning soldiers down the hallway as well. Soon, after all had died down, the area was empty and silent again.

"What was that all about?" asked one of the Dregs as they reloaded their arsenals. "You mean the relocation party actually got home?"

"This isn't home," Sorkolis warned, a growl in his chest. "This is just were we are hiding before we can return to our actual home."

Tilting his head, the Dreg seemed quizzical. "But the Kell said this was a permanent reside place."

 _She better not have!_

Clenching his fists, the Archon offered instead, too angry for speech, "Er, yes. I will bring it up with her."

Turning around, hidden from the Dreg's curious blue eyes, Sorkolis pressed his back against the wall and took a deep breath. If the Kell had notified that this was the King Banner's new home, then she had a mistake waiting to happen.

Guardians would come. They would destroy everything. The Archon has not seen much of humans, Exos, or the Awoken, but he did not underestimate their power. The last city was not far from here. It would take a mere twenty minutes for a fly in a Skiff from here to there. This was bad news indeed.

Wanting to just charge down the door to the Kell's room and yell at her for being mad, Sorkolis thought otherwise and found it best to simply say nothing at all.

But he would, the next time he saw the Kell, tell her that. She had better not have lied and notified the Fleet that they were staying here. She had promised Sorkolis that this was just a spot to be hiding from the Winter Kell. Or even the Devil Banner. But she never said this was a permanent spot.

She better not have! Please, just let the Dreg have not heard her right!

Tightening his grip, he willed to the Prime Servitors overhead, watching them that hopefully, that was not what the Kell had actually told to her Fleet.

* * *

The wintery chill of the frosted outlands invited Sorkolis to a ride with his tacked golden Pike, rebound and healthy again. But silence had enveloped most of the landscape, twinkled with gleaming, rusted metal and spires of pure icy residue.

Crouching beside a frothing stream that spat venom at the Fallen walking by, the Archon raised his eyes to the sunny flare overhead. Most of the snowstorm had simmered down and revealed rays of sunshine that scattered across the landscape, enveloping the patrol in warm fronds.

So much calmer than the bitter frost of winter that had raged before. The Kell had requested, via the Guard, that the Archon take a patrol to where he had seen such monsters. With no choice, Sorkolis was now walking with a bunch of Dregs, Vandals, and two Scorch Captains behind him. The sun promised good weather, which was for the least.

Swiping away a few rattled bugs that escaped the Archon's field of sight, the scouting unit went on their way. The canyon provided some shade from the igneous, fiery heat, but to be honest the swathes felt like tremors of lava running in attenuated rivulets down the walls of the Cosmodrome.

However, the wind kept perilous smacks to battle back such an unsustainable mass, and luckily it proved to be no difficult feat to be on the edge of their toes towards the cave in which the Archon had found.

"Don't mind me if I can't remember the exact location of which I found Tilakis," growled the Archon, clutching his loaded Shrapnel Launcher in his higher arms, tilted on one of his resistant hips. "I was wandering around in the middle of a blizzard suffering the wrath of winter, if you didn't notice."

The Scorch Captain curled one of his teeth as he eyeballed the intimidating, obscure canyons ahead. "Trust me, I don't mind if we're walking around all day."

"I do," huffed one of the Dregs with a revulsive growl, his panting lacing with exasperation. "What we could all use is a rest."

Another Dreg agreed with a "Yeah, same here."

Wheeling around to face the patrol, Sorkolis spat, "Listen. This is mandatory to do, so if you want to go back, then I believe you can have a few words with the Kell, if you're interested."

Silence met after that.

One of the Vandals queried, "You and the Kell… you two are close, huh?"

The flush spread across the Archon's cheeks. Sorkolis was glad that his helmet obscured the view from the rest of the Fleet following loyally behind him.

"Um… yea. We're… acquaintances." Sorkolis diverted any further eye contact with the Vandal that had asked the question.

Even though, that guy didn't seem convinced. "Just acquaintances?" he growled. "I'd say you two are something along the lines of 'close friends.'"

The others nodded in agreement.

"T-that is not what it is!" snarled Sorkolis, shamed to think that it was so obvious of the friendship developed between the Kell and her Archon.

Shrugging, the Vandal said, "Sorkolis, you know it's true. We all do."

Again, the patrol showed their opinions with tossed of their brute heads.

"Can we not talk about this?" demanded the Archon, slinging his lower arms together. "Now is not the time."

"Are you shy?" asked the other Fallen Scorch Captain. "You don't have to be," she added.

Sorkolis eyed her as she clung to the heavy weaponry. "No, I'm not. This is just not a necessary time for such a question."

"Whatever you say," sniffed in the Vandal that had asked in the first place.

Growling, the Priest hoped the Kell and him, in conversation, did not occur again. And luckily, it didn't. Although Sorkolis knew they were still curious.

 _Well, they shall never find out._

The bleating sun was soon covered by a blanket of clouds, much to the Archon's relief, but it was short-lived as a cool swathe of wintery air passed over the unit. Shivering down to full bone, one of the Vandals stepped out from under the shadow arch to get more sunlight, however few of it there was.

Sighing, the group made it all the way to the edge of the rocky alcove, a bunch of stones and things littered all over. Sorkolis nodded to the hole hidden at the top of the rocks.

"It's up there." He pointed with his lower left arm to the opening in the rock face. "That is where I found Tilakis. There are… creatures, in there."

The female Scorch Captain smirked. "Which is why me and Vulgantor are here."

Vulgantor, the other Scorch Captain, nodded. "You can count on us to get the work done."

Sorkolis pressed his hand against his armored temple. "Okay… let's just go in and find out. See what we can find."

"Don't mind if I do," one of the Dregs offered, shoving by the Archon, who didn't stumble but just watched with a sneer.

The others made sure to follow behind the Dreg close enough behind that he did not slip from sight. Foreshadows of the sunshine got lost under a barrier of darkness as the cave walls invited in a bunch of the soldiers. Or else inviting death to them.

Where the previous pool of blood Tilakis had left beyond was what the Dreg ahead stepped on, and he yelped with obvious surprise as he got the thick, red liquid slobbered all over his combat boots.

"It's just blood," the Archon growled huskily. "Pay it no heed."

"I… uh… I wasn't scared. Just…" the Dreg glanced uneasily to his side. "Yelling for a fight."

One of the Scorch Captains uttered a "Teh."

Sorkolis pushed aside the two-armed Dreg as he turned to the rest of the scouting unit and growled, "I will lead the way. If I get injured and cannot walk, run back to the Fleet and tell them that I have been felled."

"We cannot even try to carry you back before the darkness consumes you?" questioned the female Scorch Captain.

"No!" huffed Sorkolis impatiently. "You will run. Do I make myself clear?"

There was a previous silence, the din of reluctance holding prey on the unit, before suddenly they all burst into nods.

"That won't be a problem," one of the other Dregs growled.

The cold Vandal said, "No, it won't be."

"Good," Sorkolis spat. "Now, if you don't mind, follow close behind me so you can get your own visual on these 'creatures.'"

The other Fallen obliged and readied their weapons.

Since the dark hue of black had enveloped the group already, they activated their gas-mask lights to get a better look around. The walls seemed empty like stones, which was usual, but suddenly a scuffle of rocks alerted the group.

Vulgantor let of a rocket from his Scorch Cannon enter the atmosphere as he fired a shot at whatever was the source of movement. The fire had missed, from what it seemed, and was absorbed into the darkness around them.

"Fail," giggled one of the Dregs.

Sorkolis shot the dishonorable thing a look, and that shut it up.

As the unit fell in closer, a little scream of something sounded in the night.

The Dreg that had stepped in the blood yelled in alarm, ducking back beneath a rock. "What was that?"

Vulgantor snorted, slinging his Scorch Cannon over his shoulder. "Sounds like… Crota's Spawn."

"Crota? Who in the name of the Prime Servitors is Crota?"

"How can you not know?" the Scorch Captain asked, disgust written in his tone. "Crota, son of Oryx, lover of Omnigul, father of the almighty Shannu?"

The Dreg tipped his head. "Shannu?"

Sighing, the Scorch Captain continued, "Only one of the strongest Hive Knights known to the House of Kings. He has changed a very many in his society, and the rise of the Hive is due to Shannu."

"I don't get it."

Vulgantor growled, "I guess you never will."

That kept that conversation quiet afterwards.

The Archon looked up and growled, "Do you think this is the Hive? What experience do you have with them?"

The Scorch Captain shrugged. "Plenty. I know this sound. It the sound of a Hive Thrall."

"Thralls?" asked the Dreg. The others ignored him.

Sorkolis trembled to the bone. If the Hive was here, then the Kell, if she did indeed insist on staying permanently, would have a problem.

Repeating the Dreg, the Archon gasped, "T-Thralls?"

"They come in packs," the Scorch Captain female explained. "And they use vicious claws to rip your insides out. Like with what they did to poor Tilakis."

"I know what a Thrall is!" spat Sorkolis.

The female Scorch Captain winced at his harsh tone, her hands trembling as she held firm to her heavy-material, fire-based weapon meant to maim.

"If they are Thralls, we need to head back in the direction of the Fleet and alert the Kell of these tragic news." This was one of the Vandals speaking, their swords drawn as they stared vacantly into the expansive caverns ahead.

Sorkolis butt in quickly, "And we will not split up."

"We didn't plan to, sir," rumbled one of the Dregs drily. "We figured out the case. Now, it is time for us to get back to the rest of the Fleet. There is no more evidence required to prove this is an obvious question."

Letting his unyielding shoulders fall, the Archon finally growled out, "Very well. We shall make haste back to the Fleet. Let's go."

Another Vandal spat darkly, "Wish we'd brought Pikes."

"There weren't enough," added the female Scorch Captain. "We all needed fair means of transportation."

"What happened to the other ones? We had a ton!"

The Scorch Captain responded just as dully, "Most of the Pikes we had were boarded on the Skiffs that were felled over _Erde-Balane."_

The Vandal raised one of his swords as he quirked, "So they're all gone? Just like that?"

"It would seem so," the female Fallen responded, her head bowed as she sent silent prayers to the felled warriors in the airship battle.

The Vandal growled, "What a waste."

"I can agree."

Sorkolis decided paying the conversation no more heed as he crossed out of the cavern entrance and into the daylight, which had thankfully been restored to Old Russia. The cold atmosphere was now half-melted and dirty, but it was pleasant.

Ribbons and fronds of wintery gales blasted against the cool incline as the Fallen patrol weaved their way back home.

The canyon was soon left behind the group. As the Terrestrial Complex's border slipped into view, the group was now at a formidable pace along the hills. The sky crashed overhead with clouds as the fluffy white balls of gathered water raced one another.

" _Tunik! Gahr'n se hyat!"_ A red-caped figure lunged out of the bush and landed on the ground with a long snarl. Turning, Sorkolis could see a patrol there.

The House of Devils.

The Red-cape bearers.

Fond of Walkers.

Obtainer of the Overlord Servitor, Sepiks Prime.

And here was their disgusting Baroness, Drevis, former Wolves warrior.

All of the members in the group unsheathed their swords as the Fallen warrior perched on the rusted metal car ahead of them. Her own weapons were drawn as well, and she let out a deep, hearty laugh.

Three Shanks, two Vandals, a Captain, and four Dregs slipped out of the shadows behind her, guns pointed at the Kings' heads. The Scorch Captains tightened their grip on the weapons in which they currently were holding.

"What are you doing here?" she spat. "This is Devil Banner."

The Archon stepped forward. "Drevis, Devil Baroness. Stand down, fool. You know it is against the will of the Servitors to attack an Archon. And even if you did, you would never stand a chance against us."

Drevis smirked. "Things had changed, Sorkolis, Archon of King Banner. Devils attack whoever strays into their territory."

"How long have you been here?" demanded the female Scorch Captain, positioning her heavy weapon at the Baroness' head.

"Three days ago. You can say goodbye to that Kell of yours, Sorkolis, _Than-re'jak!"_

The Kings unleashed their weapons, trembling for the Archon's command for attack, but Sorkolis stayed where he was, though his Shrapnel Launcher was pointed at the group of Devils.

"Devil Kell say King Banner will fall under a sheath of ice and fire. Soon, all on Earth will belong to House of Devils." Drevis readjusted the grip on her swords.

Sorkolis growled. "By the will of Sepiks Prime, do you no longer respect him? It is against the Servitor concept to attack an Archon, and then you will lose and suffer in the hands of Rikantor, the King Kell. The choice is yours."

Drevis growled, "Devils will not stand down without a fight, mongrels. Raise your swords and honorably die, for the rise of Sepiks Prime!"

"Whom you obviously do not respect if you regard him with such a vehement behavior. Has the House of Devils been reduced to helpless Dregs deprived off of desperation?" There was a chuckle among the Kings.

"This," Drevis, the Baroness promised with a snide grin. "Is what Sepiks Prime wants." And with that, she lunged for the Archon.

 _Ghrr…_

Sorkolis barreled beneath the Baroness' sword, and the long weapon embedded itself into the dusty ground as she missed her attack.

The Archon gyrated and lifted his Shrapnel Launcher up to aim upon the female Fallen. Drevis snarled as an igneous bullet grazed her leg, and she dropped one of her swords to clutch the bloody opening with agony.

A Shank brought fire down upon Sorkolis, but he reached down for his knife and inserted it into the hull of the drone, and it exploded upon impact.

Bulleting across the courtyard was the female Scorch Captain, eliminating waves of Dregs and Vandals that got close, their corpses reduced to bloody smears across the waving grasses of the Cosmodrome.

The Devil Baroness snarled as she watched her units being felled before her. She lashed out with the nearest sword and scraped the Archon across the leg, then let out a deep laugh as she pushed herself to her own.

Growling with anger, Sorkolis threw his Shrapnel Launcher down upon Drevis' head, and smiled when a splatter of blood hit the rocks next to her as her cranium was shattered to pieces under the heavy weapon. The Devil Baroness howled with rage, now using her already-bloody hand to clutch her throbbing scalp. Kicking aside the Shrapnel Launcher down into a pit below, Drevis smiled as she approached the King Archon.

Reaching down for his knife with his lower right hand, Sorkolis lunged down at the smaller Fallen warrior and tried to gut her to death, but she countered the attack with her own blade and thrust the Archon off snidely.

Stumbling back into a mess of tripping over his golden cape, Sorkolis landed awkwardly in a few nettles, and he growled as the thorns ripped ghastly daggers down his spine and arms. Sucking up the courage to fight on, the Archon dragged himself out of the bushes and pounced on top of Drevis.

The female warrior gasped in alarm as she was tackled down, capes tangling and bodies wrestling to first get the upper hand on their opponent. Since the Archon was taller, he had it first and he pried one of the Baroness' swords out of her hands.

As she attempted to reclaim that weapon she had lost, the Archon flipped it to his likeliness in his own grip and he stabbed it into her arm, sawing away at armor and flesh.

Gyrating, Drevis kicked off the Archon with a combat boot to the face, and soon enough he fell back with a clatter of armor. However, the sword he had stolen from Drevis was still located in his compressed seizure, and he smiled when she was one electrical sword short.

"You fight well, Archon." Drevis rolled her stiff shoulders and flexed her lithe arms and svelte fingers. "But there is not a chance you will win this fight."

Sorkolis growled and spat, "Drevis! Look around you. The army you harbor falls before your eyes, and you are still too blind to see."

The Baroness snarled as she turned her four eyes to attention with the fight before her. But she was a smart and lethal opponent, and she flitted her gaze back at light speed to ensure Sorkolis would not have a visual she was off-guard.

Narrowing her blue-white eyes, she growled low in her throat. "Very well," she spat coolly. "You have achieved success. But this defeat with be avenged. Remember that." She turned away from the Archon and growled, _"Ynna'r chay-tunisk!"_

The Vandals, Shanks, and Dregs looked at their leader and began their reluctant retreat, eyes and optics focused on the enemy as they lowered their weapons to a non-threatening stance. Once they were a safe distance away, they turned and sprinted off into the deep, until soon the Kings had no visual on the fleeing opposition.

Sorkolis gyrated and focused back on the distressed frames of the Fleet. Several Dregs and one Vandal had been felled, but both Scorch Captains were intact.

"So," Vulgantor spat. "The House of Devils is here. Those mongrels have come even after we have. And they come looking for trouble. This is something else that the Kell must be alerted of."

The Archon nodded. "Indeed. We are all wounded and are in need of a good rest and some herbal remedies as soon as we return to the Fleet. So, do not waste any footsteps that you take and make good use of your time."

The Scorch Captains and remaining Fallen Vandals and Dregs agreed with a salute, before they all turned and began their jog back to the House of Kings campsite.

As they ran, the weather got better at the least. The cold, icy blasts of winter soon hid themselves in a tangle of burrs, and the sunshine and its dappled rays soon entered through the brightly-lit atmosphere. The presence of Ancient wonders stifled the air and its movements, leaving a feeling of old history upon the group.

This time, they wasted no breath on speech or conversation. They just raced back to the campsite they now were forced to call home, hidden away in the Terrestrial Complex. One of the Dregs had to remove his golden helmet from battle wounds.

By the time they returned, the sun had climaxed its sheathe in the sky and all was starting to descend back towards the Earth. Sixteen guards were at the entrance to the King Banner.

"Sorkolis, King Archon." The Priest waved his hand in a gesture only known to his own House. "Let us pass."

The metal doors to the Refinery were opened by four of the guards, and the patrol was let back in to the campsite. Two of the Kell's Guard, and the Baron, were waiting at the real front, obviously for the return of the unit.

"You're bleeding!" gasped the Baron, running to attend to our lacerations.

The Kell's Guard seemed unimpressed, switching their attenuated blades in their hands, lacking any else to do. Two more of the Guard exited the Kell's Throne room, and they noticed the commotion.

"What happened?" asked the leader of the Guard, a svelte and ravishing Vandal with quite feminine features despite his male nature. His lower arms were slung together, and he featured a nasty scowl on his face as he eyed the patrol.

The female Scorch Captain decided for the group instead, "We were attacked."

Another one of the Guard questioned, "By the creatures?"

"No," the Captain said, her voice hushed. "By the Devil Banner."

One of the Kell's Guard paused, reluctant to speak at first. "Devils? The House of Devils is at the Cosmodrome?"

The Captain nodded. "It would seem so. We ran into the Devil Baroness, Drevis, when we were at the border."

"Drevis…?" the Kell's Guard asked. "The old Winter Baroness. So… she moved over to the House of Devils after the fall of Skolas. This is grave news indeed."

Another of the Guard sanctioned, "I shall alert the Kell."

After he'd spun around and made haste to the metal door behind the unit, the Baron sighed and pressed his head to his temple.

"I'm surprised she would have such dishonor to move so quickly," he growled, his movements subtle as he looked through his vermilion armor and into the eyes of the patrol. "Sepiks Prime approves?"

Sorkolis nodded. "It would seem so." Drawing his eyes away from the Baron, he added huskily, "I am forbidden to say so, against the law of the Overlord Servitors, but… the Kell of the Devils is a mad Fallen warrior."

The Baron agreed, wringing his hands together. "Of course he is, accepting one of Skolas' old Barons. I wonder what goes through Drevis' head, after her lover was taken to the Prison of Elders and made to be the Champion there. He has yet to be felled… but it will happen."

"Of course it will," the Archon agreed. "But that is not important. We have also found out about the creatures in the caverns. They are from the Hive – Thralls, to be exact."

The Baron appeared greatly disturbed. "And the Hive are here? What does Crota have to do with this?"

"Crota, I believe, is still in the dark below, waiting for the Guardians to reach him. Let's hope we do not run into Omnigul or Shannu, her son." Sorkolis looked to the horizon. "Shannu is a powerful warrior, and the King Banner would be felled soon if he were to be there."

The Baron sighed. "You said Thralls, not Shannu."

"If there are Thralls, Shannu will be there, Baron. Trust me on that. Where there are a few of the Hive, there will be many."

Dipping his head, the Baron just acknowledged that then turned away to subside to the deep within, to one of the more vital points in the Refinery. After that, he turned to the rest of the patrol, left of a one Dreg, three Vandals, and the Scorch Captains, and growled.

"Let us go notify the Kell of our finds."

The rest of the patrol agreed, then started making their way to the metal door. This time, only one of the Guard were outside, flipping his blades with unease. The Vandal flitted his eyes up when he saw the unit coming in, and he growled low in his chest. "You come for an audience with the Kell?" he demanded.

Vulgantor nodded. "Yes, sir. At the authority of you, please let us in."

The Vandal scowled, then shoved the metal door open with his two left fists, revealing the dimly-lit chamber once more.

The Kell spoke, "Ah, Sorkolis. The Guard informed me that the Devil Banner is in Old Russia."

"They are," growled the Archon. "But we also found out about the creatures that killed off Tilakis. It is the Hive. They are here."

Ahead of them, Rikantor winced, her fingers twitching on her Throne arms. "That is unfortunate. It seems that we will have to keep an eye for Omnigul and her son, Shannu. We shall rise the amount of patrol units we will have."

One of the three Guard asked, "Is that wise? We may be jumped by more of the Devils."

There was a reluctant pause from the Kell. "Send in the Walkers."

"Walkers?" asked Vulgantor. "That is an intense move. We have only three more Walkers we can spare. The rest were picked off above _Erde-Balane."_

"Send them in anyway," growled Rikantor. "Do as I say." She turned to look at the Archon. "I know you will do this for me." Her teeth were bared, her helmet gleaming maliciously in the low lighting.

Sorkolis dipped his head. "Of course I will, my liege. I would jump into the pits of the Moon and battle Crota for you alone if you requested me to do so."

No one seemed to notice the glimmer of red that leniently passed over the Kell's ravishing face.

"So," began one of the Kell's Guard. "More Walkers, more patrols, more everything. More Pikes, more soldiers…" The Vandal nodded. "I will see to it, my liege."

As he left, the Scorch Captain female bowed her head and growled out, "So what of the Hive? Shall we flush them out of their territory and beat them to the ground like the cur they are?"

The Kell shook her head. "No, that is unwise," she spat. "What we will need to do is think of a strategy and use it unpredictably."

"Very well," the Scorch Captain conceded. "I shall permit a rally group and will attend to a battle plan." After those few words, she dismissed herself, along with Vulgantor, and slipped from view.

Another one of the Kell's Guard agreed and rasped, "I shall go see what permissions she has to offer for that."

Soon, the only Fallen there were two of the Kell's Guard, one Dreg, two Vandals, Sorkolis, and the Kell, who was tapping her fingers impatiently. She seemed bothered, as if the Cosmodrome was not such a good location after all.

"Well," the Kell started, her svelte arms accompanied with rivulets of feathering muscles. "I suppose I should take a look about this later. Sorkolis, are you sure it was the Hive? Did you see the Thralls?"

The Archon shuffled. "We did not visually see them, but there were a lot, and Thralls hunt in packs. Also, to add on to the evidence, they had screams like those bastards..."

Rikantor snorted, her eyes flittering. "I suppose that is enough to know," she growled, readjusting the linen cape in her fingers. "Can you bring to me the place the Devils showed up?"

Snarling, the Kell's Guard spat, "But my liege–!"

"Enough!" Rikantor found her eyes back on the Archon, an invisible smile on her face. "The Archon Priest will be quick to take care of me."

"I insist, leaving only Sorkolis for your care is absurd!"

The Kell growled low in her throat. "He is stronger than most. I trust in my heart that he will get the job done. However, we will be walking."

Sorkolis, knowing he had better company, was more than obliged to walk back to the site where he'd found Drevis.

"First, however, he shall be treated with herbal remedies that will soothe his aches. Come with me, Sorkolis. My Guard, you will take command of the Fleet when I am gone."

The Vandals that served as the bodyguards for the Kell were more than happy to take over, and the two remaining ones shuffled into the hallway as the command was given.

"Let's go," the Kell offered, brushing past Sorkolis.

The Archon followed her into the winding halls of the Refinery, until they stopped at the area where the newcomer Vandals had been housed, the warriors that have survived the battle above _Erde-Balane._

Rikantor nodded to the Medics. "They will mend your wounds," she breathed, slinging both pairs of arms together. "See to them, and return to me when you are ready to leave."

* * *

"You know, I wasn't actually expecting you to get the role, my liege. I mean, this is a great opportunity for you."

The Kell and her followed were on their way down to the border. A slight rain had fallen over the two, soaking their golden capes to sponges. But the two did not care, just walking peacefully beside one another in harmony.

Smiling, the Kell growled, "Rikantor is okay when we're alone, Sorkolis."

"Just this one last time, my liege."

This time, Rikantor just shook her head and her beautiful golden helmet, her eyes scanning the ribbons of landscape unfolding before them. "Did the remedies work?" she asked.

The Archon nodded his head. "Yes, they did."

"Good," announced the Kell, jumping over a bunch of rocks and shards that were in the way. She leapt over a bunch of stones and gracefully landed on the other side. She gyrated to watch Sorkolis repeat her action, but laughed when she saw him hit the ground.

The Archon had red flicker over his cheeks and he yelled, "We aren't all as big as you."

"You're right," the Kell teased, hobbling down the path. "You're bigger than me."

Scrambling to his legs, the Archon followed the Kell down the winding spiral of stones, rocks, and sticks.

Rikantor looked over her shoulder and laughed, "We are almost there, right? The rain is picking up and I'd like to get home before dark. So stop joking around and just keep moving on towards our destination."

After that the two Fallen warriors kept going on their way. They heard the tough crashes of the ocean winding up on the rocks of the coast. A peaceful silence overwhelmed the two as they continued. The hum of birds overhead yielded the drum of the wind on the Kell and the Archon, leaving a fine ray of late sunset shine over the soldiers.

"So," asked the Archon as he picked his way around a bunch of nettles, remembering that that was what he'd fallen into when he was battling Drevis. "Did you believe you were going to move up to the Kell of the King Banner?"

The Kell paused. "No, not at first. But the Servitors gave me the Ethic light I needed to be one of such an authority, and here I now am. Do… do you think I'm doing a good job with the whole operation?"

Sorkolis nodded. "You have picked a fine place for the King Banner to reside, despite the obstacles, but every perfect location has things you must overcome. That is just the way of nature, I'm afraid. The decisions you make – everything is just fine."

"I sure hope so," murmured the Kell as she looked up at the stars. "Sometimes, I look up to the Servitor ancestors and wonder if this is the destiny they had laid out for me. I really believe that this is a… burden, more than an honor. The questions that you need to decide… I wish I was a Baroness again."

The Archon purred with sympathy, "You do not. Having the honor to stay close to all of your warriors is more an honor than that of a burden. Sometimes, I get confused with what you say, my liege." The two walked on. "This is the perfect role for you."

The Kell looked up at her loyal follower. "I said sometimes, did I not? The responsibility of a Kell is far greater than that of a Baroness. It can get… frustrating, sometimes, the things that a Kell has to answer. And being a female does not help. Other Houses think I am not fit for such a role."

"No!" growled Sorkolis as he gazed at his leader. "You are more perfect than them. I believe that you have never been more proud or graceful. Ever since I first met you, I knew that you would be something great."

"Don't say that," demanded Rikantor, her upper arms fixed over the helm of her Shrapnel Launcher. "You know it's not true, stop trying to flatter me."

The Archon shook his head. "I am _not_ trying to flatter you, I simply speak the truth. You were always to be something greater than any other Kell. You are the true prophet of the King Banner."

"I'm not," Rikantor snorted, but an invisible smile crept on her face. "But thanks." She leniently brushed aside two plants that were in her way, her blue-white eyes fixed on the horizon overhead. "Is this the clearing?"

Sorkolis took a quick scour of the arena. "Yes, this is it," he said, remembering the battle that had taken place a few brief hours before. "Drevis said she was here with her team for a mere three days. They came after the King Banner was already raised here. Luckily, we flushed them out of our territory."

"Hmm…" the Kell looked out across the courtyard, her eyes scanning the debris and rubble around her. "This is odd," she growled. "Why does everything have to follow us? Did the Devils even know we were here? I find it suspicious that they did not."

Sorkolis shook his head. "I don't believe so. Drevis seemed confused when me and the patrol unit were confronting her. I think she was just as much surprised to catch us here as we were to find her."

Rikantor shook her might head. "How did she even get into the Devils?" she asked. "She was working for her mate, Skolas, and she easily betrayed him with Sepiks Prime. What did that Servitor promise for her? That Skolas was to get out of his imprisonment with the Queen of the Reef?"

"Mayhap," issued the Archon as he scanned the clearing. "Skolas is under some pretty fine containment, if you asked me. The chances of him escaping the Prison of Elders is a very slim chance indeed. In fact, I doubt anyone has ever escaped the Prison."

The Kell tilted her head. "No one? I guess they would never make it out of the Reef, then, even if they did. Variks would find them. Skolas would be no different, despite his rage and madness."

"So, I wonder what did bring Drevis to the decision to betraying her lover. Was Skolas ensured a way out of the Prison of Elders, or is that ugly Wolf Baroness trying to rally up a troop of Fallen warriors so she can raid the Reef and get Skolas out while he still has little sanity left?"

"I wouldn't know," growled the Kell as she drew her eyes out across the border. "Anyway, not important. Did she say that this was Devils land?"

The Archon nodded. "She did," he promised.

"Then their camp must be by here, then," spat the Kell. "I'm sure it will be a lot of fun to raid it with Walkers."

Sorkolis tipped his head awkwardly. "Are you sure the Devils do not have a bunch of Walkers, either?" he asked.

The Kell shrugged. "I'm sure they do, but we can attack them with surprise. We were here at the Cosmodrome first, and I intend to keep it before the Devils can flush us out of it. Do you not agree with me?"

"Of course I do," the Archon promised. "Why would you think I not? I only intend the best for the House of Kings, and if I have to risk my life doing that, then so be it."

Rikantor smiled and growled, "Why thank you. I really think that that is nice of you. So what do you think of the Hive's presence in our lands?"

Sorkolis paused and gave his heftier shoulders a shrug. "I have to be honest, I think very little of it. I am more worried of that outcome that having that here would bring. What about your safety here? Surely Crota would try to kill you and Devil Kell if he had the chance to?"

"I'm sure he would, and he can try." The Kell bared her teeth. "Not even Shannu would be able to stop me. I won't let anyone get in the way of the Kings Banner from rising in the windy breeze of Old Russia. Do you think I am stupid?"

"N-no!" yelped the Archon as he looked out across the frosted land of the Cosmodrome. "I just want you to be… safe. That is all."

The Kell looked down. "Hmm." She stared across the land as well; the rain beat down harder on the ground as the two Fallen stood there. "We should go back," she decided. "I think our work here is done. Come on, let's go."

As the two Fallen started to walk back, beams and flickers of electricity thundered in the sky overhead; the rain started to fall even harder down on them. Soon, their capes did not twinkle with a dull color of the golden Kings Banner, but instead looked and appeared more muddy brown in hue. The Kell pulled back on her own adornments and sighed as she peered at it.

"This is ridiculous," she joked. "I must look silly." Running a hand through the linen, she wrinkled her face in disgust as she eyed the long cloak.

"You look fine," growled the Archon, showing her his own ratted cape. "Just stop whining and let's get back to the Fleet, before they think the House of Devils captured us or something."

The Kell rolled her invisible pupils. "Because I did promise the Guard you would take care of me," she spat. "So, that is the case, and I need you to get me back safely without the constant threat of me getting reprimanded by my own servants." The taller, lithe warrior pressed her hands against her temples and shook her head.

"Of course I'd get you back safely," the Archon promised.

The Kell lifted one of her eye ridges. "Would you?" she asked, a quirk to her vocalization.

"Sure. You can always count on me to get the job done. Why would your Guard even think that I could not look after my own Kell? What a ridiculous Archon I must be."

"Now you sound like me," the Kell laughed. "Trust me, you have nothing to be ashamed of. The only thing that you need to worry about is keeping me safe. Which counts right about now, by the way."

Sorkolis readjusted his uncomfortable gas-mask and he snorted. "My only concern?" he questioned. "I cannot even keep my eyes out for the Hive, another House, or even Guardians?"

"Protect me from them," the Kell said, her eyes twinkling. "That is the job from all of the Fleet. Do not seem to think you have an exception." Through the rain, she looked up into the sky and sighed, her fingers twitching.

The Archon just simply smiled a little bit. "Why would I have an exception?" he demanded. "I am just another warrior in your Fleet. Now, you said you wanted to get home, so no more chatter from you."

The Kell crossed her arms together. "Are you really telling me what to do, Sorkolis?" she demanded. "Have you forgotten who is the Kell here?"

"I thought you'd said you wanted to be a Baroness," teased the Archon.

"Doesn't mean I am one!" countered the leader of the King Banner.

Sorkolis eyed the Kell up-and-down. "Very well then, Rikantor."

The peaceful silence again overtook the two Fallen as they made their way on through the night. The sun had already slipped down from its hold in the sky and the darkness had come. Suddenly, the Archon stopped and frowned at three little specks moving in a line along the mountains.

Grabbing ahold of the Kell's hand with his own, the Archon growled, "Let's go!"

Seeming confused, the leader of the King Banner asked, "Why? What's wrong?"

The Archon spat, "Guardians."

Apparently, the humans had seen them as well, for a single shot was fired into the air towards the two Fallen.


	2. It Is Fire

**Hey! I just have to say thank-you to everyone who reviewed in the first chapter. Special shout-outs to Fallen Path of Evil, Jack Barrington, Ctornello, Reilly.216, jko90909, and the guests that hopefully returned to read this new installment. You guys are awesome. Also, if you reviewed the first chapter after this update, I'll get to you in the next chapter.**

 **Also, thanks again to Reilly.216 for the OC: Nyx-72! If anyone else has OCs they would like to submit, just let me know. Fallen or Guardian.**

 **Enjoy!**

Chapter Two:

It Is Fire

"Damn! I missed."

The two Fallen had raced down the side of the mountain and had slipped from line of sight. Three Guardians were standing on the hillside, two Titans and one Hunter.

In one attenuated rivulet, the Hunter's Sniper Rifle ammunition had belted the atmosphere towards the group of opposition standing on the other side of the mountainous region, but the bullet had missed, and the two were gone.

One of the Titans, a female human, smiled, "It was a pretty nice shot, though. What do you think, Ravenwood?"

The other Titan shrugged his shoulders casually. "It was alright, I guess."

The Hunter looked down at the human male, his green optics twinkling vehemently underneath his helmet. "Just okay? That seemed a pretty fair shot to me."

"Of course you'd say that," joked the human female as she tightened her grip on the Shotgun she was carrying.

As the enemies faded from sight, the patrol lifted out their Ghosts to summon their Sparrows. The vermilion, beige, and stone-gray vehicles soon teleported into the air, and the Guardians mounted. Ravenwood and the rest of the unit slipped their legs into the designated foot slots.

The Hunter guessed, "I think Cayde-6 will want me back at the Tower right about now. It's getting pretty late."

"Sounds accurate," added the Hunter's Ghost, spinning his triangular parts as he studied the hillside that once hid Fallen.

Ravenwood sighed. "Commander Zavala won't oppose that decision. Come on, let's go."

The team of three descended down the hillside, streaks of fiery brass and cobalt shunning the landscape behind them as the Sparrows were kicked to full gear. Riding down the mountainous area, they swerved off a grassy alcove and drove casually along the spires of Old Russia.

Pavilion outposts surrounded the clearing of the Mothyard, as well as the debris of a planes crashed eons ago. Ravenwood wasn't even sure if he could remember himself from that time before, he'd just woken up here, "Forged in Light."

Meeting everyone from the Tower in the last city had been alarming – leaving the black-haired human male apprehensive. His Ghost had come to him in Old Russia and explained everything, but it hadn't made much sense in the least. But Ravenwood made as much of it as he could.

The weather was pretty nice, for as far as the patrol as concerned. The black-haired Titan, with his steel-hued Sparrow, enjoyed the lacking breeze of the Cosmodrome, but the speed of racing along the hillsides gave plenty of a draft.

Rolling his neck, the male swerved along the crannies and alcoves of Old Russia, and his team followed quickly behind. At least at the Tower in the old city, he'd be able to have a refreshing cup of coffee. Maybe Commander Zavala will have had a nice conversationalist feel to him this late evening before the Guardians went to sleep.

The rain had passed over through the rolling clouds in the sky, and the horizon twinkled with far-off lights as the moon ascended into the darkness overhead, its shine reflecting the majesty of the sun.

So, the Guardians returned to their ships and left off for the Tower. Once it was all tacked up and prepared, Ravenwood dropped into his pilot's seat and navigated the star coordinates using the constellations. The frequency amplifiers put pulses at the last city, and the three starships took off for their destination.

"Ghost," Ravenwood said as he picked up a container of ammo and strapped it down to the carrier part of the ship. "Who were those two Fallen we saw back there? They were… too big to be Vandals."

The triangular-shaped, one-eyed object gyrated to look at the Titan as he continued hoisting down crates. "It was a Kell and an Archon," he explained in a matter-of-fact tone.

Over the intercom link, the female Titan asked, "Why would you want to know? They're just two more enemies that will be dead soon anyway."

Ravenwood sighed and slumped his shoulders, eyes scanning the glistening optic of his Ghost. "Just curious," he responded. "And also, what does a Kell and an Archon happen to be?"

The Ghost retorted again, "The Kell is the leader of a House of Fallen, and an Archon is a direct link between the Prime Servitors and the Fleet."

"Which House was that?" questioned Ravenwood as he finished with his work and fell back down into the pilot's seat. He reached down with his muscular hands to grapple a cup of tea in which he'd been drinking before.

"The House of Kings. Also the most brutal Fallen House out there. You'd better tell Snow-32 not to just fire at any old enemy he sees. Things could have gotten messy if they'd decided they wanted to fight back."

Ravenwood removed his helmet and set it aside as he brought the cup to his lips. After he finished with the sip, he demanded, "Well, why didn't they?"

The Ghost paused for a minute, reluctant to answer, before he decided instead, "I'm… not sure. They usually react violently to someone in their territory. Why these ones didn't I can't be positive."

The female Titan over the interlink piped in, "It's a good thing they didn't, or we'd all be roasted on a stake."

Snow-32 added, "I would never have let that happen!"

"My hero," grumbled the female Titan as she terminated her link.

The Ghost readjusted his triangular body parts as he commented, "Three Guardians against a Kell and an Archon? I'm not even sure if the rocket science required for that would match up with my calculation of certain _failure."_

Ravenwood shrugged his shoulders as he leaned back in the fur-lined pilot's seat, taking another guzzle of his tea. "Hey, I'm not offering."

Snow laughed as he finished up with his interlink. "Well, we've got the brains – me, and the brawn – you and Viridescent. I think we'd be a pretty good match against the strongest warriors in the Fleet."

The Titan male rolled his eyes as he shot back, "In your dreams."

Then he terminated his own link.

* * *

Honeysuckle bushes scattered the rained-down portion of the tower. Most of the Guardians and Vendor-Masters had fled indoors to protect themselves from the waves of the terrifying water army as it brought its worst against the last city.

Ravenwood had brought his Ghost into the Tower, in the Hall of Guardians where all the Masters of the Vanguard were waiting. Commander Zavala was having a conversation with two other Titans, Ikora Rey was reading a book, and Cayde-6 was marking locations on a map with a ballpoint pen.

The flickers of electricity through the window in the back of the room gave the night a ghastly appearance as new Titans, Hunters, and Warlocks entered the Tower to get their starting weapons, then disappeared off into the night to battle against the Darkness.

Sitting backwards on a chair, the black-haired Titan rested his head on the support as he watched Commander Zavala deal with new Guardians. The way his lithe, muscular arms moved to shake the hands, the sweet scent of a faraway land, the dazzling, gleaming smile as he looked upon the new Titans. That was exactly what Ravenwood had been greeted with when he first arrived.

Witnessing it from the outside was a different experience altogether, like you were just another one of those members that had walked in. Sighing, Ravenwood put his head down and watched as Ikora greeted a friendly Warlock Awoken.

The darkness began to succumb the Hall of Guardians; rain pooled on the first few steps to the pathway as the liquid flooded the top of the Tower.

Feeling time being wasted, the black-haired Titan got up to avoid group of new recruits before he made his way up the stairs to rush to his sleeping chamber. Suddenly, a hand wrapped around his shoulder, and he found Commander Zavala standing there.

"Ravenwood," he pursed, the sweet scent on his body absorbing that of the fresh dirt and stone of that in the Tower. "Why are you not yet sleeping?"

Swatting away at a strand of hair falling in his face, the Titan shrugged his shoulders and offered, "Wasn't feeling any motivation to rest. What tempted you to asking?"

"Sometimes Titans need their time down. Any Guardians, really. Also, I have a special task for you and your team tomorrow. A Fallen ship was felled just outside inside of the Cosmodrome, and the Vanguard suspect they were carrying smuggled guns from Vex artifacts over here. They belong to the Devil Banner."

"Let me get this straight," Ravenwood offered. "You want _my_ team to head over there? Why would you make that decision?"

Zavala blinked his azure eyes, the muscles along his cheeks feathering in the slightest way. "I feel I can trust you, Snow, and Viridescent. So far, you are the most superior squad left available on the Tower."

Ravenwood left his thoughts go to Snow-32, a total Exo Hunter goofball. Then to Viridescent, a logical human Titan. And himself… he wasn't even sure which category he included himself in. Maybe –

"You are very wise, Ravenwood. A great decision-maker and understandable. Your leadership skills are unlevelled. To add to that, your fighting skills are also incomparable." Rolling his muscular shoulders, the Titan Vanguard went on, "I see you very fit to leading this squadron. Until…"

A silence had overwhelmed Commander Zavala.

The ebony-haired Titan pressed, "Until what?"

"Until I get a Vanguard replacement of course. I can't run the Tower forever. But you see, about this new Titan… they must be strong. And I have my sights set on a girl that the Light has shoveled for me."

Ravenwood tilted his head, ebony hair falling to the side. "What's her name?"

Zavala shook his head. "I cannot be sure. But I see the Traveler has pressed a great destiny upon her; I can sense it. Now, it's best you head off to bed, young Titan. You need rest if you're to hunt down Devil smugglers tomorrow."

"Of course, Commander Zavala. I'll see you in the morning."

The mighty Awoken dipped his head. "And to you, Ravenwood."

As the muscular Titan boy continued his trek up the stairs, he saw the damage the water had done, leaking into cracks to further separate them, staining ribbons of cloth hanging overhead some Vendors. Who the owners had, of course, fled to their chambers.

Sinews of water plopped down into a miraculous puddle beside two crates as the rain soaked Ravenwood's ebony hair. The downfall had spared little, and there was hardly a Guardian in sight who wasn't running for the nearest shelter.

Rubbing off the bubbles clouding over his forearms, the Titan approached his chamber and opened the cracked, wooden door. His team were sitting in the lobby, sipping at cups of coffee brewed from the machine at the table. An assistant droid was cleaning up some plates at the washer, a tablet rested on a bamboo chair, and the scent of cinnamon filled the room at a flickering candle offering not only a refreshing aroma but light as well.

"Ravenwood!" chanted Snow as he pushed himself off the leather sofa in which he'd previously occupied himself with. The Exo shoved through the room and wrapped his arms around the human Titan. "Where have you been?"

Giving his friend an awkward return of a hug, Ravenwood explained, "Conversing with Commander Zavala. We… had a few things to share with each other."

Snow-37 shrugged. "Seems fair to me."

"Oh, and also…? He said we have a mission tomorrow. Devil smugglers carrying Vex artifacts flew over the border and crashed their vessel. We have to investigate and retrieve any and all things that might have been left behind in the collision."

Viridescent's head popped up over the sofa. "Why'd he pick us?"

Ravenwood retorted, "He thinks we're ready."

"Then let's not have him disappointed," Snow answered. "Let's prove we're ready for everything."

"But first we get some sleep. I don't know about you guys, but patrolling Old Russia is an ultimate wear-down."

The human Titan agreed with Ravenwood, but Snow-37 declared it was "awesome." Ravenwood plopped down on the sofa and looked over at Viridescent.

"Any coffee left over there?"

She nodded. "Plenty."

Ravenwood smiled. "That'll do. Still warm?"

"Yeah."

As the Titan went to retrieve a beverage, Snow folded his arms behind his head and objected, "So where is this smuggler's vessel? Hopefully in Old Russia – the last thing I need is to go any further than that. Today was a bore."

After getting his cup, the male Titan sat back down and faced the Exo. "Just inside the Cosmodrome. No worries – we're going just right of the Devils camp."

"That's actually closer than I thought," Viridescent agreed. "But I need my beauty sleep. See you boys tomorrow." With that, she put her coffee glass back in the sink and retreated to the barracks upstairs, her armored feet hitting the wooden steps painfully.

Snow smiled his moveable Exo lips. "I won't be far behind you. Say Ravenwood – after this mission is all set and stone we move to the Crucible and shoot us some Delta team?"

"I'd love to, but I don't have any excuses. I'm pretty sure that the Lords of Iron are putting me on probation from the games because of my absences. So you're going to have to do that alone. Besides-" Ravenwood tossed his ebony hair back. "I have some tracking to be doing."

Nodding, Snow offered, "I get it. But what are you tracking?"

"Those two Kell you failed to kill. According to my Ghost, that was the House of Kings. And it was a Kell and an Archon, so with due to my knowledge on the topic, contrary to your belief, the whole fleet should be there."

"So what if they are?" demanded Snow-32. "You couldn't manage a whole House on your own, Raven. You know that."

Ravenwood whisked his hand, his auburn eyes twinkling in the low din of the candle lighting. "Don't worry, I'd never try to overcome an opponent without you, Snow. I will only be looking and observing. Collecting data back for headquarters. That enough for you?"

Snow sighed. "Yeah, I guess." He looked up, wintery optics outlined by the dim atmosphere. "But be careful."

"Be careful in the Crucible, and hopefully the Lords of Iron won't pursue you." Ravenwood shared a tight laugh with his teammate. "Now you'd better go get some sleep. Those smuggler cruisers won't be undetected before long."

The Exo Hunter crossed his arms. "And what will _you_ be doing? Surely you will not be awake for much longer than myself?"

"Nope. Just let me finish this."

Snow subsided back to the wooden steps of the barracks, and left the Titan on the sofa with a magazine in one hand as he sipped out at some coffee. He nearly spat it out when his eyes fell upon a symbol marked on one of the pages. He'd seen that mark before… but how?

 _My mind is playing tricks on me._

Setting aside the paper, Ravenwood recalled his promise to Snow-32, so as soon as he wolfed down the rest of the thick coffee he thanked the assistance droid and retreated back to the upstairs chambers. Since there were sleeping Guardians, only two lights remained on in the hall. Snow must have kept them on.

Flipping down the switch, the Titan stepped into his room and flopped down into his bed. The comforts of the soft sheets welcomed him, and he absorbed his face into the warm, fur-ridden covers.

As he was succumbed under sleep, Ravenwood thought about that little sign in the back of his head. What had it meant? Before he even began decrypting the details, he lost his consciousness to the bonds of sleep as it soon pinned him down in a useless state on his bed where his dreams took wing.

* * *

The position of reawakening was uncomfortable, Ravenwood admitted. Stretching his sore limbs, the Titan male gyrated and retained his singular earring before trotting downstairs to greet his friends.

Clearly, the assistance droid had done her job for all the dishes were clean and the candle had been put out. Outdoors, the raining had stopped and Guardians were trotting around the Tower, whether they were purchasing new wares or assembling a squad to strike on one of the nearby planets.

"Hey," Viridescent offered as she dipped her head. "Sleep well?"

Ravenwood nodded. "Yep."

"Well, roll-out time is approximately fifteen minutes. So grab whatever you need for the trip before we head out."

Collecting precious belongings, the male Titan gathered what he needed, some food and water, and pulled it down to the Hangar below the Tower. Tacking it to his ship, Ravenwood let it be and watched all his friends coming down with their stuff.

Heaving all his stuff up with lithe Hunter arms, Snow-32 questioned, "Does this mean we're ready to head out?"

Gyrating to further study the walls of the Hangar with featured seldom Guardians, Ravenwood started, "I think so. Viridescent, you didn't forget your Shotgun this time, did you?"

"How could I?" asked the female Titan as she pressed her weight on one hip. "There's no way I'm making that mistake ever again."

"Heh, don't get ahead of yourself," joked Snow as he finished strapping down a crate full of stale food that the Tower possessed – it never had good stuff – and shut the hatch to the back of the ship.

Viridescent turned around and pointed her svelte finger at Snow-32. "Watch me."

"Couldn't keep my eyes away."

The ships launched off the platform and dissolved into the atmosphere. Ravenwood chinked down his controls and lifted his Ghost out.

"Give me the coordinates," he commanded as he set the Pilot Mode to "Auto."

The Ghost twisted its body parts. "55.7500° N, 37.6167° E."

Entering the numbers into the dash's computer system, the Titan Human sat back and watched the clouds rolling beneath him. The other ships, flanking right by Snow and on the left Viridescent, toiled behind their leader as they angled their flight gears to position to the destination.

The ships started taking off in a slow roll, before they tipped down and began maneuvering towards the location. Snow-32's ship hit a robust pocket of air, but he luckily was able to steady himself before he lost control of the engine.

Swaying the air crafts, gales of wind hit the hulls as the team plowed on through the skies. Soon enough they were out of the draft, but had taken the brunt of the collisions. Over the interlink, Viridescent let out a disgusted growl.

"I just repaired that yesterday!"

Ravenwood steadied his vessel to a smoother level of engagement. "Just take it easy – we'll be there soon. According to my Ghost's estimated field of enzymes, the crash site should be just three clicks ahead and below us."

Over the link, the black-haired Titan male could hear the female Human slowing down her descent. "I know, sorry. The winds over here these days are just insane."

"I understand. Just be careful next time."

"All I can say is that I'll try. That good enough for you?"

"Plenty okay for me."

That silenced the two for brief moments before Snow offered them a cough over the comm. Ravenwood forced his voice through the transmitter:

"Would you knock it off?"

Ravenwood was sure Snow-32 just smiled. "Sorry. Had to interrupt that. Silences bother me."

The black-haired Titan rubbed his ear. "Well, you got what you wanted…"

"Don't I always?"

Viridescent scowled and terminated her link so she could not hear any further the two. As the ground neared, Ravenwood avoided another pocket of air so he could avoid any thermal updrafts from further damaging his hull. "Engage slowly," he commanded.

"Who made you the leader?" asked Snow as he brought the cruiser to a stop and swerved through the air.

Ravenwood scowled. "Commander Zavala. Now would you just be quiet and move slowly?"

Snow growled. "Okay, bossy."

The ground was littered with shrubs that harbored little leaves, broken bits of machinery, rusted metal, and old food packages that were likely marshmallows and maybe some beef jerky. However, no signs of fresh food _or w_ ater, for that matter.

Fallen footprints marked the hillside as the Guardians steered their ships there. Ravenwood put on his Titan helmet, secured it, and then stepped off the vessel as he crashed into the white snow.

"What a dump," chortled Snow-32 as he passed through the undergrowth. "You think there were any people that came before us? Maybe someone that trashed the place?"

Ravenwood nodded. "Fallen," he whispered as he crouched down on one knee to look over the structure. "I've never seen anything like this. Do you think maybe the ship has been searched through?"

"It's impossible to know for sure," growled Viridescent as she stepped over a jarring edge of metal. "But if the Fallen got here, this was a wasted mission. And a complete time-eater."

The male Titan got back to his full stance and shook his head. "We would know if it had been picked through. Maybe my Ghost can scan the structure for any recent life-signals it might be giving."

Viridescent nodded. "Go ahead and try for it, then."

Ravenwood held out his hand to let his Ghost spawn, then it floated through the air and began scanning the collision site that had flames still licking off the engines. After a moment or so, the machinery backed away from it and its eyeball shook slightly.

"As far as I am concerned, there are no recent lifeforms that have stepped foot here. But we are so inaccurate with this type of thing sometimes."

"That's no lie," growled Snow. "Perhaps me and Viridescent's Ghosts should check it out just to clear up some things. Maybe it would be more accurate then." The Exo Hunter pulled out his Ghost and held it out, and the female Titan did the same thing.

The Ghosts finished up their work and reported the same thing. That sent the three Guardians and Ghosts exchanging a few worried glances.

"Then what are these tracks for?" growled the Hunter as he crouched down on one knee and rubbed his finger through the trails. "Hunters are great trackers – but I have no idea where these ones are going toward or how quickly they were running."

Viridescent scowled. "Doesn't even matter," she said. "Let's explore and see if there are any Vex artifacts still left on the inside."

"Be careful," warned Snow-32 as he watched the Human stepping ahead of him duck underneath the arch of the ship and enter it.

Clearly, from the hull shape and paintjob done on the outside, it was a Devil Banner Skiff, but it featured marks on it that indicated a ship brought it down. Perhaps one of the other Houses had tried to stop the convoy and retrieve the artifacts themselves? Or even better, get rid of them once and for all? Mayhap this gunner was the House of Kings and not some other House, like Wolves or Winter.

Besides, the King Banner was the most violent of the Fallen Houses. They would surely take an opportunity like this to down one of the other House's escort Skiffs.

"All the Fallen in here are dead," called out Viridescent as she walked out of the ship. "And so are the artifacts."

Snow seemed puzzled. "The artifacts are dead?"

"Stolen; gone."

"Oh, I get it."

Both Ravenwood and Viridescent knew he always had.

Approaching the collision site, the Hunter rubbed at the side of the Skiff. "So there is nothing left in there for us?" he asked. "Maybe the patrol is still out there and returning to their Banner?"

"It's a possibility," began the female Human Titan as she rubbed her jawline through the helmet that clung heavily from her cranium.

Ravenwood nodded. "We should go catch them, if they're still here. It takes forever to traverse Old Russia on foot. I'll go ask my Ghost how long ago these tracks were."

"Surely recent, especially if the snow hasn't covered it all up," Snow said.

The male Titan let his Ghost scan the rocky outcroppings for the level of frequency waves coming off the tracks. "Relatively forty minutes ago. If we use Sparrows, we can catch the Banner that robbed the Devils of their artifacts."

"Soon-to-be our artifacts," agreed the Hunter matter-of-factly.

Viridescent nodded. "Exactly. Let's go pick up that trail."

The Guardians made their way up the rocky cliffs, evading jutting stones and twigs that would serve as an encumbrance. Ravenwood led the team over the mountainous region; their jagged boots helped provide stability.

Lithe and nimble as Hunters usually were, Snow-32 slipped out after the group as he made his way up the path. Since his Class was so good at navigation, tracking, and bounty hunting, he was the first up the mountain. He looked down and waited for Viridescent and Ravenwood – two Titans that found it harder to navigate but were battle tanks.

Since the tracks let up the foothills, the group was forced against a costal draft as they made their way out over the region, delving deeper into Old Russia territory. The area was rigged of any usable supplies, leaving it just a deserted wasteland for architects to explore, if they had the appropriate Guardians with them to help escort and protect from various wildlife such as the Fallen or any wild animals.

"Hold up!" snarled Snow as he bent down on one knee. "I found something."

The other pressed around the Hunter as he crouched down in the firm soil. "A new set of tracks," Ravenwood whispered as he pressed his hand down into it. But it didn't replicate the Fallen footprints they had been formerly following.

Snow-32 got back up and retrieved his Sniper Rifle. "Those are Guardian prints," he explained. "Look how wide and lightly he's walking – that is a Hunter. And the shape of his foot explains he is an Exo."

"You can see all that?" Ravenwood asked as he grabbed Gjallarhorn off his back and returned his Scout Rifle to the previous position. "Is he also following the Fallen trail?"

"It would appear so," the Hunter said as he aimed the Sniper down the cascade of shrubs and jarring rocks. "But I thought you said Commander Zavala had only set for us to catch the artifacts, not some other Hunter."

Ravenwood shook his head. "If it is a Hunter, it was not sent by Zavala. This was either notified by Cayde or he found the artifacts himself."

Snow-32 crunched his knuckles together and flexed his lithe Hunter fingers. "Then let's go catch us those artifacts before this guy can!" Then he cast his invisible white eyes down to the spot the Guardian tracks were. "But this is a Hunter, and he is traveling alone, so that means he can move Hunter-speed and track at the same time, so he is moving quickly."

"Then stop wasting time!" spat Viridescent as he shoved by the Hunter and other Titan and began sprinting up the next alcove of rocks, sending a shower of pebbles and stone over the other two.

"Hey!" shouted Snow as he began out after her. "I'm not eating your dust!"

Viridescent turned around briefly and giggled. "Then stop being such a slow-poke."

Snow-32 growled. "You're on!" he exclaimed as he struggled up the path after her.

As the two began racing the hillside, Ravenwood edged his way up the slope after the other Hunter's tracks, keeping to his own and evading any rocks that threatening to push him back down. Since the other two were going at such a better speed than himself, the male Titan with ebony hair took a way around and met the top before any of them could.

Snow slugged to a stop at the top of the hill, his Exo gears grinding for air as his artificial lungs struggled for breath. "Hey – how did you get up here so fast?"

"Took a shortcut. You?"

Before the Hunter could respond, a worn-out Viridescent fell to her knees at the top. "I won!" she said, then looked around. "Oh."

Snow made a sarcastic noise. "Gee – a little too late."

Ravenwood pressed his hands against his temple. "Okay you guys, you're wasting too much energy. Instead of racing, try taking your time and seeing for different paths like I did."

"You took another way around?" asked the female Titan as she slumped down for air. "I wish I'd done that first."

"I wasn't racing you," huffed Ravenwood as he aimed Gjallarhorn down the slope to study it for life-forms.

Snow got to his feet and approached the edge of the cliffside. "See anything?" he asked as he observed the canyons various inclines for any new trails. "Maybe a Fallen patrol or a Hunter that thought he could beat us?"

Viridescent crossed her arms and threw Snow-32 a weird look. "I doubt he was actually trying to race us to the artifacts. He probably found it and attempted to make a good use for himself by retrieving them for the Vanguard. And also – he was possibly curious for it and wanted to see what it was."

Slinging his arms together, Snow shrugged his shoulders and made a casual face. "He's trying to beat us."

Growling, the Titan ignored the Hunter and padded up to Ravenwood. "See any bounty hunters down there, Raven?"

"Not that I can see so far," warded the Titan as he drew his arms together. "But the tracks lead across this slope and inclined slightly a few meters away. As far as I can tell, the Hunter has moved this way."

Viridescent nodded. "Trying to be sneaky, huh? Well, you can't mess with the Tower's strongest squad."

Ravenwood sat back up and shrugged his hefty shoulders. "Come on, Snow. We're looking to see if we can catch the Hunter before he finds the artifacts. You standing around over there definitely does not support that idea."

"Sorry," breathed out the Exo Hunter as he pointed his Sniper down the slope. "Well, let's stop wasting so much time."

After those words of acknowledgement, the crew continued their way down the incline, following the attenuated tracks of a very skilled Hunter that did well to provide cover for his footprints. Had it not been for the Hunter on their team, Snow-32, they would not have been able to continue tracking the other Exo to this point.

The foothills were dotted with shrubs, barren trees, and scrapped metal, blotting against the silhouette of the sky, providing cover for the squad. Taking this as an advantage, the group stood behind some of this protection so they were not spotted.

As the bright heat and light of the sun wafted over them, they continued on. Bugs swarmed in clusters around decaying bodies, and various streams rushed to get to the crashing waves of the oceans surrounding Old Russia. Large animals that were very seldom, such as deer or wolves, occasionally trotted by, their ribs flashing under a thin layer of mottled, rotting fur.

Fallen tracks were also visible under their layer of snowy grass and tall reeds. The group stood by to these tracks and followed the Hunter trail that was edging alongside those original marks.

"The ground is cleared for Sparrow riding," stated Ravenwood's Ghost as it emerged through a blue spark. "You may now follow these pathways using your vehicles."

Snow smiled. "Sounds good to me." He lifted his hand and mounted up on his Sparrow, vermilion flames flickering majestically behind it. "You guys boarding up or not?" he asked.

Viridescent scoffed. "You're not patient at all," she snarled as he got to hers, Ravenwood following her action. "I guess if we continue following the tracks we will reach the location eventually. Come on guys, we don't have any more time to waste."

The three Sparrows broke out across the clearing, riding along the mountains with streaks of brass cascading behind them, contrasted by the azure blue of the sky roaring overhead.

Suddenly, a visual was caught on a patrol of Fallen trekking slowly across the clearing, carrying a band of instruments between a few Dregs. Two Scorch Captains guarded the patrol, and six Vandals were on the sides. Immediately, the Hunter's tracks had stopped and had impaled sharply to the port side.

Snow pointed down the cliff to where a Hunter was crouched beside a few bushes. He was holding his Sniper, Final Boss, aimed down the path to where the patrol was edging along the cliffs.

"Is that our guy?" asked Viridescent to Snow-32, her eyes flitting down the incline. "We'd better halt him and let him know that is was our mission to find the Vex artifacts."

The Hunter paused and looked at the female Titan. "I think I know who this might be. An infamous Hunter on the Tower. I know because of that Sniper he's holding: Final Boss." Snow retrieved his own secondary weapon and looked at the name etched into the side of it – Patience and Time.

Ravenwood shook his head. "I'll go down and find out. Maybe we can work together-!"

It was at that time that the Hunter perched on the cliffs below took a shot with his legendary Sniper Rifle, cutting off the head of the Scorch Captain. This reluctantly paused the Dregs as they looked up from their work, dropping the artifacts and sending them in a desperate fury for their pursuer.

The Exo continued cleanly shooting off the heads of the Fallen down below, before they started edging for cover. Since he no longer had a clear shot of where his targets were, the Hunter put away Final Boss and grabbed his Hand Cannon, The Last Word.

"What the?" demanded Snow as he scrambled for a grip on Patience and Time.

But the Hunter down the path had already cleared out the field and was making a way for the artifacts. This put Viridescent on her Sparrow and racing down the slope towards the Exo that had just taken their bounty.

"Hey!" she called to the Hunter who was digging through the remains. "Hold up!"

Turning towards Viridescent, the Exo drew his arms together in a tight fold. "What do you want? You'd better make this quick."

The Titan hopped off her vehicle and started slugging through the snow towards the other Guardian. "That was our mission."

Sniffing, the Hunter didn't seem too impressed. "I didn't see you stalking them for a day and a half. Can you just get to the point?"

"We were the ones who have to return the Vex artifacts."

"First off," the Exo spat, holding up his metallic hand. "Who is 'we'? And second, that's what these things are? Vex artifacts?"

Viridescent pointed up the incline. "To answer your first question, 'we' as in my team, Snow-32 and Ravenwood. They're standing up there. And for your second question, yes, that's what they are. Commander Zavala requested we retrieve them for the Vanguard."

The Hunter flitting his gaze to the two others standing on the hill, clearly eavesdropping in on the conversation. "Bring them down. We'll decide then."

Ravenwood and Snow-32 grabbed their Sparrows and slowly trudged down the hill. "This isn't good," whispered the Exo to the Titan Human as they rode down the incline.

As the two dismounted their vehicles, Ravenwood pushed by Viridescent and demanded, "Who are you, Hunter? And why did you steal our bounty?"

"Back up a bit," the Exo growled. "I'm Nyx-72. And I guess you're Ravenwood."

The Titan nodded. "That seems about right. Can you just hand us back our target?"

Nyx snorted. "Why would I do that? You didn't even bother helping me when you were standing up there on the cliff. I took down all the Fallen guarding the artifacts. Other than the mission authorities, what did you do besides follow me here? Why do you deserve the prize?"

Viridescent mumbled under her breath, _"Hunters."_

Rubbing the side of his neck, Snow-32 questioned, "Why do you?"

"I've been tracking it for a day, thanks," Nyx-72 responded gruffly.

Snow buffed up and spat, "Hunter to Hunter, here. Exo to Exo. _Give us our token."_

Ravenwood shoved the Exo out of the way. "And that is not the way to do it. Nyx, I'm sorry for Snow's rudeness. But can we just grab our stuff and go?"

"No." The Exo crossed his arms together. "You may not. But I will make a deal with you. We will _all_ return with the artifacts. I must go with the three of you and be credited for at least seventy-five percent of this-"

Viridescent butted in. "Fifty percent."

"Seventy-five." Nyx continued. "Which one of you is the leader?"

Ravenwood lifted his arm. "That would be me."

The Hunter snorted. "Then I'll go with you. Help me pack up all of this stuff. Since you guys seem pretty new, I suppose I should give you a lasting impression. Even though I don't like teamwork."

"What? New? Does this look new to you?" Snow-32 shoved Patience and Time in Nyx's face. "This is an Exotic Sniper Rifle!"

Nyx stepped back, clearly revolted. "Get that _thing_ out of my face."

As Snow stepped away, grumbling. Ravenwood smiled through his mask. "We'll help you out with that then, friend. Come on, Vi."

* * *

Commander Zavala seemed pleased with the results. "Well done. But I didn't know that there were two Hunters in your squad." He gestured for Nyx-72, who was standing in the back flipping his special blade.

"He's not on our team," Ravenwood said as he placed the last box down on the Vanguard's table. "But it doesn't matter. He helped us gather the materials." He shot the new Hunter a look. "Seventy-five percent, to be accurate."

The Titan Vanguard smiled wisely. "That is quite all right. As long as the artifacts didn't fall into enemy hands, any way to retrieve them is acceptable. Now, I'm sure the cryptarchs would find interest in this. I'll send off one of the newer Titans to give it to him. What do you plan to do the rest of the day?"

Ravenwood shrugged. "Go back to Old Russia, maybe?"

"Why there?" asked Commander Zavala as he gyrated to return to his former position on the Vanguard table in the Hall of Guardians.

"Eh. Old mission. Nothing too big. Going to stay up and rest for a few minutes before I decided to head out. Anything else you'd like me to do, Sir?"

The Titan Vanguard shook his head. "No. I think it is beyond me with what you decide to do the rest of the day. You've done enough me for us. The Vanguard thank you, Ravenwood. We will always accept your services."

Ravenwood smiled. "I'm always here when you need it, Commander. Give me a call when you need anything."

With those final words of regard, Ravenwood departed from the presence of his class' leader and made his way up the steps to the top layer of the Tower where Guardians and Vendor Masters were always walking about. Some assistance droids were covering the top of the pavilion, but other than that it was full of Guardians, new or old.

As usual, whenever Ravenwood needed guidance, he went off to see the Speaker or Zavala, but he knew that the Commander was busy, as usual. And the Speaker was away for only the Traveler knew why. So, the Titan Human just waited patiently for any events that might come up.

That event was… Nyx?

The Hunter walked right up to the Titan. For the first time, he could see the Exo's face – vermilion eyes and mouth glow, a black body. His face was drawn into a snarl; at least to the point an Exo could make expressions in the first place.

"Yes?" asked Ravenwood as the Hunter trudged up. The lithe Exo had his arms crossed, and he gestured behind him.

"You really need to teach your team some manners," he spat. "That Snow guy, whatever he's called, keeps threatening me. I mean, he's stopped now, but it really got irritating for the time it lasted."

Ravenwood shrugged. "He's like that. Whenever he doesn't get his way." The ebony-haired Titan rubbed his facial hair endingly. "I apologize for whatever he said to you."

"I don't need your pity," Nyx-72 huffed. "Just keep him under control. Where he really belongs is in an exhibit at some sort of petting zoo. But between you and me, I think we got off on the wrong hand."

The Titan blinked. "Really?" he asked. "What makes you say that?"

Nyx shrugged. "I'm not really that irritated, from what I've been made out to be. Your friends just annoyed me. You, on the other hand – you've done nothing wrong and I think I mistreated you in the first place."

"What are you suggesting?" demanded Ravenwood.

"Okay, I know I am not one for teamwork, but perhaps we should get to know each other better in the Cosmodrome, whenever you're available." The Hunter shrugged off some rubble from his shoulder plate, and his red eyes fixed on Ravenwood's blue ones.

The Titan nodded. "In a few minutes, I'm heading to Old Russia in means of tracking the House of Kings. You can join me if you want."

"They're not going, are they?" growled the Hunter as he gyrated to get a visual on Snow-32 and Viridescent chatting with the Special Orders Vendor, Tess Everis.

Ravenwood shook his head. "No. I was planning on going alone, but one more shouldn't hurt."

Nyx rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Um, thanks. See you then." With that, he drew away from the Titan and began heading back to the Guardian sleeping chambers, likely going to his room.

The Titan drew away from his former position and began trotting up the flight of stairs to where the Gunsmith was located. He was not here for a chat with the Vendor owner, but he did like to sit under the shade of the huge vermilion tree and watch life go by. Crouching over, Ravenwood watched the sun slip further from its climax in the sky to begin its descent back to the ground, where the moon would replace it.

As a child, Ravenwood had always pictured a battle between the sun and the moon. As he got older, he imagined a friendship between the two. Now, he no longer even knew the difference.

All previous thoughts had been erased in the eradication of the Golden Age. Before that, even. It had been so long ago… despite the time Ravenwood had spent at the Tower, he never could recall what he'd done in his past lifetime. Other Guardians could remember theirs, some within the first day. But his remained a mystery, even to himself. Ravenwood wasn't sure why the memories wouldn't jab in; he'd been here for years. However, there was not much to do.

So as life would crawl on, the sun and the moon torn between that terrible fight. Maybe even a friendship. But now, the moon was covered with darkness. Ravenwood didn't think anyone saw the moon the way they used to, now that the Hive was crawling all over it. The Man in the Moon, aliens, all of that – it was over. No one thought the same as they ever once did.

Now, he wasn't sure why anything was like the way it was.

Being a kid, anyone would think of the moon as an existent creature up the air. Perhaps harboring life, like some sort of alien planet. The "Hive…" Ravenwood wasn't sure whether or not to call that "alien." After all, it was from a faraway place, right? Not your typical big-head Martian with huge eyeballs that says cuss words and jokes around.

After thinking about that for a while, the Titan got back up. Perhaps Command Zavala was not busy anymore. Maybe he had something else to say about that new Guarding to be his future Vanguard? It was about time that the Awoken Titan had received a successor.

The steps were full of young Guardians playing with the Gravity Ball, it bouncing up high into the air then slowly drifting back down. When Ravenwood entered the atmosphere around them, they yielded play to let the Titan pass, before they resumed after his absence.

Glopping down the steps, Ravenwood entered the Hall of Guardians and kept at an amble speed to where the Vanguard were standing around a table. This time, however, there were six members. The other three were from the New Monarchy, Dead Orbit, and Future War Cult.

Immediate recognition set in as the Titan padded through the room to where Commander Zavala was talking quietly with the Dead Orbit's leader. Cayde-6 murmured something to them, and their eyes fixed upon the newcomer.

"Oh – greetings, Guardian." That was Ikora Rey speaking as she snapped the book she was previously reading closed. "What brings you down here?"

Ravenwood fumbled to a halt as he looked upon the group standing about the table. "I have a few questions for Commander, if his presence is not required."

Cayde offered, "Of course not."

The Dead Orbit's leader growled out something low under his breath.

Zavala dispatched from his conversation and followed Ravenwood to the front of the room.

"Yes?" he asked, his voice laced with ribbons of kindness.

The Titan dipped his head. "The Vanguard you were speaking of earlier today. I have a few questions about them?"

" _Now?"_ The Commander did not sound angered, just confused and even a little bit amused.

Ravenwood shrugged. "'Fraid so." He cleared his throat. "Who is she?"

Zavala snorted. "You see, they have not arrived yet, young Guardian."

"What? Then how do you know?"

Rubbing the back of his head, Zavala offered instead, "Wrong choice of words; hasn't been revived yet."

The Titan lifted both eyebrows. "So…? That doesn't answer my question."

"We have visions of these Guardians, Ravenwood. About the amount of Light surrounding them."

"And you know for certain?" asked Ravenwood as he folded his arms together.

Zavala shook his head. "We are never accurate. Some may not be the actual one."

The Titan tilted his fingers. "Am I the only one that knows about this, Commander?"

"As of now. Other than the Vanguard and some Lords of Iron," Zavala informed.

Ravenwood appeared slightly puzzled. "Why me, Sir?"

The Commander's lips broke into a smile of gleaming teeth. "Because you will be the one to protect her, Ravenwood."

"A Vanguard-in-line? What an honor, Sir!"

"I thought so, Guardian. From your leadership, combat, and communication skills, I knew you were to be the one."

Ravenwood still seemed fairly surprised. "When will she get here?"

Zavala shook his head. "We are never clear for that. Soon, young Guardian. Soon. Any other questions?"

"One or two more – do the other Vanguard have their successors 'envisioned'?"

"Ikora Rey does. Cayde does not."

The Titan folded his arms tighter. "Is that normal? Should they all be picked?"

"It is tough for Hunters, I guess. Most of them are all arrogant and cocky, so one appropriate for such a role is hard to determine."

Ravenwood tapped his head, ebony hair falling in flames. "They're not so bad."

"Hmph. Worse than you think, being around Cayde-6 all day." Zavala and Ravenwood shared a laugh.

"Try being around Snow twenty-four hours, first one to go insane wins the noble prize."

* * *

Nyx-72's ship was impressive, Ravenwood told himself. Very impressive.

 _Ha. Not better than mine._

Night had succumbed the Tower, and Ravenwood's friends, Snow-32 and Viridescent, had both wrapped blankets around themselves for another night of rest. But the Exo and the Human had both slipped away from their rooms to engage in their nightly activities.

Of course Snow knew his friend had gone. Before going to bed, he himself had gone off to play the Crucible Games, where Bravo had gotten their butts handed to them in Skirmish. Snow-32 was truly a competitive Hunter. But the Exo promised not to say anything to Viridescent, for surely she would disagree.

Nyx tacked his ship up, swiping off his gauntlets. Before Ravenwood could summon his own star vehicle, the Exo shook his head. "We'll move faster as one. Why don't you come aboard?"

"Uh, sure. I don't see how that could hurt," the Titan grumbled, fumbling his hands around his Shotgun, Party Crasher +1. Swiping off the barrel of any blood, Ravenwood stepped onto the open back of the vessel. "Does this ship support drinks of any kind?" he questioned, eyes scanning the relatively shiny surface.

The Hunter shook his head. "Being an Exo, it isn't a requirement that I eat food or drink water. Since I do not prefer the art of digestion, I tend to not allow beverages or anything edible aboard this vessel."

Ravenwood shrugged. "Works for me, I guess."

As the owner of the ship stepped on board, he ordered his Ghost to activate the thermal boosters and engage auto pilot. Ravenwood found himself comfortable on one of the support beams, Party Crasher +1 still equipped.

"So… you find yourself uncomfortable with my friends?"

Silence.

Ravenwood tightened his grip to the helm of his Shotgun. Perhaps the Exo hadn't heard him? Repeating the phrase, the Titan got the same response.

 _Well, then._

Approaching Nyx-72, Ravenwood tapped him on the shoulder, but the Exo was still unresponsive.

 _The Hell?_

The Titan looked down at the Exo, but found his eyes giving off a greenish tint. Suddenly, the hue disappeared, and the Hunter turned to reorient himself –

"What the-?"

Both Hunter and Titan crashed into each other, tumbling to the floor. Ravenwood's Ghost rushed to his aid, but the Titan shrugged him off. Picking himself up to his feet, he watched the Exo before him brushing off some dust from his shoulder plates.

Looking up with his vermilion eyes sparkling fury, Nyx demanded, "Why were you standing so close? Does _personal space_ mean nothing to Titans?"

"You weren't answering my question."

Nyx appeared confused. "Question? I must not have heard you. If you mind rephrasing your statement…?" Ravenwood also noticed that the Hunter was shaking slightly, as if he were startled or shaken up.

Ravenwood asked, "Is there something wrong?"

"No. Why?"

"You seemed to be… 'In the Zone'." Ravenwood made a gesture with his fingers.

Nyx-72 shook his head. "Maybe I was. So what? What's the damn question?"

Snorting, Ravenwood demanded, "You're uncomfortable with my friends?"

At first, the Exo before the Titan remained reluctant at a response. Then he growled out, "Yeah. They're annoying. Not worth anyone's trust. Especially that Hunter."

"Can _you_ try to accept them? Maybe then they won't mistreat you."

Nyx repeated his previous gesture. "Why should I? And are you really here to lecture me about your friends? Honestly, I can make do without the trouble. You told me that your allies wouldn't be here, but it almost seems like they are with how much chitchat you give me about them."

The Titan tightened his grip so fiercely around Party Crasher +1 that his knuckles turned white. "Listen, Nyx. I was just asking."

"And I answered." The Hunter said nothing more than that.

Deciding to leave the topic there, Ravenwood asked instead, "So how much longer until we arrive at the coordinates?"

Nyx-72's fiery brass eyes flitting down to the computer screens flickering red and orange below him. "Not much longer than five minutes. Can you tell me what exactly you're planning to do while you're down there? Hopefully we're hunting some Fallen – I hate those bastards."

"I was to be tracking a few of them. Just the other day, my squad fired at two Fallen that they didn't realize were the leaders of the fleet – a Kell and his Archon." Ravenwood readjusted Party Crasher +1 in his compressed seizure.

The ship they were standing on tipped sideways to the starboard side, straightening its thrusters as it navigated towards the surface. Old Russia was already slipping into view, and the Cosmodrome's rusted outlands was visible even from such a high vantage point in space. Amid it all was the frosted ground that covered the ground, the moon glowing off of it.

Nyx-72 tacked up his guns and slung Final Boss over his shoulder, the lightweight Sniper Rifle fitted nice and snug in his grip. "We're landing in another minute or so. Pack up everything you're going to need. Good at tracking?"

"Not really. I'm just an average Titan."

Nyx smiled before he got his helmet on. "Good thing I'm here. Let's go then. But don't slow me down."

Ravenwood crossed his arms, readjusting the screws that held his armor together. "I'm leading this mission, you offered to tag along. We're hunting the Archon and the Kell. That will bring us straight to the King Banner's enforcement campsite. At least with another person I have less of a chance of failure. We're just trying to find out where they hide and what they were up to."

"Correction – what they _are_ up to. In thirteen seconds we'll be grounded, so prepare." Nyx opened the hatch for the ship, waited, then jumped out.

The Titan behind him crashed to the ground, sending a flurry of sticks and rocks in all direction. Swiping off his armor, Ravenwood looked about and could clearly see the moonlight above him now. Just a little while before he'd been thinking about the battles and friendship between the sun and the moon. Now it just hung there.

Nyx made his way up the slope after Ravenwood as the Titan led the both of them. Silence had crippled what remained of the area, and the ground lay covered with frosty, pearly snow. A soft breeze had ripped up what remained of the peacefulness, giving way to a night that was already about to be a bit wild.

Since the slopes of Old Russia were so steep, and it was a struggle just to find a few footholds, the duo paced alongside the mountains and tended to stay into the canyons. Nyx warned the Titan not to do this for too long, because surely Fallen would be about with their snipers waiting for opportunities such as this one. After walking a click through the canyon layers, they made their way up one of the hills to the right.

Ambling along the nooks and grooves, Ravenwood padded up the inclines and kept eyes on the back of his head for any Fallen Vandals that might have been carrying their ugly Wire Rifles.

Nyx-72 bothered not to lag behind the two. He was a Hunter, automatically making him a professional tracker and warrior. Still equipped was Final Boss, aimed at the hills to make sure no Slap Rifles would break into the atmosphere. Once the top of the mountain was reached, they trekked across a broken, cracked road littered with algae and other shrubs. A chilly wind tore through the barren clearing, leaving a layer of misty residue over the two Guardians.

Ravenwood walked over the rubble of what used to be a road. One that cars used to drive over and everyone was pleasant. Nowadays everything was turned upside down form what the Golden Age had clearly promised for not only Humanity but other races as well.

Luckily no rain came down from the sky, as it had the previous one. Although evasion action was necessary as to not stumble over a variety of rocks or plants, movement was quite coherent and simple through Old Russia. Easy.

There were little to no Fallen among the deserted cliffs. Withers of snow-swept peaks floated in delicate ribbons across the massive, open skyline. The Titan and the Hunter stepped off the cracked road and started their way across a field of lush grass and shrubs, riddled with thorns and massive wildflowers. Spires of rock and wood, littered with weeds and vines, hung dead and leaning over the snowy carcass of the ground.

"Here," Nyx-72 offered, bending down on one knee to observe a banner rippling in the wind. It was the color red – clearing stating this territory belonged to the House of Devils. "We must be heading the right way."

Ravenwood shook his head. "No, we're not going after the Devil Banner. We're hunting the House of Kings; their color is gold."

Nyx nodded in understanding. "We're still heading the right way, though. The House of Devils and Kings cannot be too far from each other, can they?"

"You're the tracker," Ravenwood said as he crossed his arms together. "It's up to you whether or not we find this House. Whenever you see a few golden banners rippling in the breeze where there are particularly a few mountains enclaving, we'll be close to the base, I believe. An Archon and a Kell would not move too far from their campsite, would they?"

"I don't think." Nyx observed the vermilion banner for a few more moments. "We shouldn't waste any time. It's getting darker every step we take."

With those words of regard, the Titan and the Hunter pressed on after the House of Kings. In the back of his mind, boggling with interest, Ravenwood wondered about the Kell and his Archon. Surely the two of them were doing something of absolute importance to have been dispatched from their units? Possibly.

As the steep hills burdened them once again, the rocks got sharper but easier to get a handhold on. Party Crasher +1 was still firm in Ravenwood's grip as he hauled himself over another boulder. Nyx reached down a hand to help up his companion.

Ravenwood even knew now that Nyx-72 didn't trust him. Not that he cared, the Exo had offered to come along on this trip, so that was what the Titan would make him do. But replaying in the back of his head was the weird moment on the ship when Nyx's eyes had turned green slightly and he was not responsive. What could that have been?

Instead of worrying about minor issues as such, the Titan got himself back on the move again. What was there to bother about? Nyx was not a suspicious guy, after all. Just another Hunter, right?

The slopes of the inclines got to a dramatic point, forcing Nyx-72 and Ravenwood around the structure instead of over it. The Hunter used his double jump to get a vantage point over the area before he slumped back down again.

"I believe we're close. Just a few clicks away, there are tall mountain ranges, as well as a rusted-down building lodged between them. If that is the place you are looking for, then we're really close." The Hunter turned and stared out across the sky, the faint remnants of lighting and thunder sounding off in the distance. "The House of Kings will be another hour or two's walking distance from here. Too bad we can't use Sparrows."

Ravenwood nodded. "I know, I want to use Sparrows, too. But we do what is absolutely necessary, and if that is continuing to walk, then that's what it is."

Nyx snorted and made his way out onto another dry, cracked road. For as far as the Titan knew, it was still covered up with shrubs and wildflowers.

Ravenwood followed after the obviously experienced Hunter. If he knew the Cosmodrome well, then the Titan would be at his target in a simple hour or so. But just as Nyx-72 had said, it was a very complicated procedure not to just jump onto a Sparrow to ride over for the vacant hills and cliffs. But to not be caught and grabbed – it was a very reliable source.

The duo padded up the steep range of hills, grabbing ahold of any rocks or shrubs that would stick out and prove as a nice range of handholds. The House of Kings, with every step, was closer and closer.

As the moon continued its ascension further into the sky, more of the Fallen were mingling about. Nyx shoved Ravenwood into some cover a few feet away as a patrol of Dregs, Vandals, and one Captain were strolling by, gyrating occasionally to get a visual on everything around them. The Captain readjusted its flailing vermilion cape, clearly confirming the Titan and Hunter had found themselves just a little bit further into Devils' territory.

Ravenwood shrugged off some leaves that had fallen in rivulets on his shoulder. "What're they doing?" he vocalized.

"Can't tell," Nyx-72 stated flatly.

"We can't find out?"

The Hunter turned towards the Titan and spat, "Not if you want to get caught!"

Ravenwood hesitated, reluctance overwhelming. Then he conceded, "Very well. Are we trapped?"

Nyx shook his head. "Not if they move. Or we can get out quietly. If 'quiet' can even describe a Titan."

The ebony-haired Ravenwood bit back his sharp retort. "Let's wait and find out."

Soon the two were watching as the Devil's Dregs and Vandals were unloading a Skiff from above them.

Suddenly, Drevis, former Wolves Baron and now Devils Baron, leapt out of the Skiff and landed in the ankle-high snow.

"Drevis is here?" demanded Ravenwood, recalling the last time he'd seen her patrolling the Cosmodrome with a stunningly cyan cape rippling behind her. "Traitor to her own!"

Nyx growled, "Chill out a moment. Let's see what's up."

One of the Dregs was reloading their Shock Pistols, and the Vandals were carrying the Skiff's cargo back to their campsite. Drevis pointed up the incline and growled orders, her vermilion cape already stained darker red with Guardian blood.

As the two watched the Fallen warriors, they waited for the right time to keep moving on. Drevis was already padding up the slope to where the Vandals and other loyal followers were waiting, and she snarled out something in a muffled tone beneath the helmet that she wore over her cranium.

Nyx pulled out Final Boss silently. "At least we can kill one of them. Or two. Or three."

The Titan next to him sighed.

As the Hunter aimed towards one the Vandals, Drevis was already halfway up the rocky foothill and was assisting them back towards the camp. She was growling out something else, but since it was in the Fallen language it was hard to understand.

"I was Variks was here. He could translate this for us."

Nyx-72 snorted, "Well, he isn't. Can Ghosts translate?"

Ravenwood turned to him and conceded, "Unlikely."

 _Boom!_

Nyx shot a bullet towards one of the Vandals, immediately decapitating him. Startled, the others one turned towards where the shot came from, and they were beginning to equip their Slap Rifles and Shock Blades. Drevis ripped her Shock Blades out violently.

"Go!" shouted the Hunter as he pulled himself out of the brambles and began racing from cover.

Ravenwood dragged behind. "I thought you said you didn't want to engage!"

"Too late!" spat Nyx as he charged into the fight.

Drevis thrust herself towards Nyx. _"Ghanrudar! Vhan Jn Ostigul!"_

Ravenwood hesitated. "What's she saying?"

"How would I know?" demanded Nyx-72.

" _Skolas runa Si'in jar!"_ Drevis ranted, raising her Shock Blades.

"Hold on…" Ravenwood said. "Skolas? Did she say something about Skolas?"

Drevis snarled as she poised her equipment for attack position, her face embedded in a snarl however invisible it might have been. _"Vyn granj dunkr ta!"_ She turned to face the Vandals. In a very heavy voice that had trouble pronouncing, she added darkly, _"Kill them!"_

Nyx barreled to the left and dispersed from view, and Ravenwood lifted up his Shotgun, Party Crasher +1 to do its job. He raced towards a Dreg and pulled down on the trigger, sending an array of blood and gore all over the snowy ground. Drevis roared as she went to go hare off after him.

Swiping off the barrel to remove any blood that would dislocate the next shot, Ravenwood ducked down behind some cover as the angry Baron shot off after him, Shock Blades lifted and ready to cleave his meat.

As the white-and-blue blade shredded down a few shards of rock next to him, the Titan pulled himself out of the hiding hole and charged at the female Fallen warrior. A bullet grazed her chest and shoulder, and she hesitated to let out a furious growl of pain, swinging her Shock Blades wildly to reach a target.

Pulling into more safety, Ravenwood got a visual on Nyx-72 sniping off the heads of some advancing Vandals, occasionally slipping in another pack to reload.

Drevis charged forward and raised her scimitars, ready to impale, but again she was stopped by a few bullets to the stomach, immediately stopping her as she cried out in miserable agony. Before could take another swing, something grabbed her arm.

Ravenwood turned to see what had paused Drevis, and he gaped open wide with terror.

Skolas.

The Kell of Kells. The most dangerous warrior of the Fallen ever to have been seen. But never before on Earth. His armies had never managed to make it there. The Titan flitted his eyes to Drevis, and she seemed just as affronted.

" _Jyn?"_ she questioned as she studied her former leader.

Nyx had taken some of his time to charge through the undergrowth towards Ravenwood. In a very startled tone, he growled, "Time to go."

"I… I thought he was in the Reef! I trapped him there!"

Nyx stopped.

"That was _you?"_

Ravenwood nodded frantically. "How did he escape? Why is he here? We need to leave, now!"

"I got that bit. But now at least Drevis will be gone."

The Titan tilted his head curiously. "What makes you say that?"

Nyx crossed his arms. "If Skolas is returned, she will follow him again. And Skolas will not be here where the Reef can see him, not yet. He will likely try to return to where his survivors are."

Ravenwood looked back out the bushes. Skolas had been confronting Drevis with his face twitching maliciously.

" _Why do you sulk with Devil Banner? Tha ghanrudar?"_

Drevis shook her head. _"Yjan bar! Van Car-ant."_

Skolas growled and looked back to the Devils' Vandals, whom were all crouched over reproachfully. He gyrated, snarled something to Drevis, then began making his way down the incline, beckoning for his lover to follow after.

As the Baron slid down the slope after Skolas, the two faded from sight, giving Nyx and Ravenwood the perfect chance to escape the wrath of the Devils.

The Vandals and the few Dregs still appeared very affronted and startled, as if seeing the Kell of Kells was an honor in itself. The Dreg that had been reloading its gun before the assault looked around for a leader, but they were lost out here before they could get backup. The smallest Vandal pulled out his radio submitter and was calling for a pickup on the border. He definitely said something about Drevis and Skolas.

Nyx shot down the cliffside with his svelte, lithe Hunter legs whereas Ravenwood crashed down with his resistant, unyielding Titan ones. The ferns and shrubs littered across the area was a perfect place to crouch down and cover themselves.

"That was startling," mouthed Ravenwood to his companion as he rubbed the back of his neck.

Nyx nodded. "True."

The Titan bent over and reloaded Party Crasher +1. "But we have to keep moving towards the House of Kings. Skolas won't get in the way."

"But how…? How did he get out? That's impossible!" Nyx was also tending to Final Boss.

"That's not important. The Vanguard will get it all figured out soon. The Queen will want Skolas back in her hands before long.

Ravenwood nodded. "But I also know that the Kell is around here, the one from the King Banner. He must have an armada surrounding his hideout. From just a little while ago – did you see anyone guarding the entrance of the camp?"

Nyx-72 looked down and shrugged. "A bunch of golden stuff; banners rippling in the breeze, some armor racks, and a heck a lot of cargo. Is that what you wanted to know?"

"Fair enough. When we get there, how shall we engage?"

"I'd need to get a scale of the structure first."

Ravenwood lifted up his hand. "Have you been back this way before?"

"Hunters," Nyx-72 spat, "know the entire range of Old Russia."

"This building?" Ravenwood snorted, rubbing the back of his neck again.

Nyx shrugged. "If we're lucky, I'd been into it. Kind of hard to tell, regarding everything that has been going on."

The Titan snorted. "Let's keep moving. We have no time to waste out here."

"Why? You need to go?" asked Nyx.

"It's just getting impossibly late."

Nyx rolled his lithe shoulders. "After we succeed the mission you can go back and rest."

"Sounds good to me. Now we can proceed."

The Titan and the Hunter began making their way up the inclines and foothills of the Cosmodrome. Rusted cars and wildflowers littered the clearing as they moved.

Ravenwood snorted. "Sure is a dump."

"You got that right," agreed Nyx as he followed swiftly after.

"The Kings really picked a nice location for their camp – someplace no one else wanted." Ravenwood searched the peaks for any units.

The Hunter nodded. "Yeah… that's what I would do. If I were desperate for protection."

Ravenwood glanced over at Nyx and shrugged. "Maybe they are desperate," he offered.

"Who cares if they are? All Fallen deserve death. Especially since they claimed all human territory on Earth. That was the doing of the _Kells."_

The Titan sighed. "Really doesn't matter, now, does it? This is a stealth engagement, aka we're not doing any offense. Make sense to you?"

Growling, Nyx diverted his vermilion eyes and vocalized, "Yeah, I guess."

As much as Ravenwood knew Nyx would prefer a simple hunt, he knew that the two of them stood no chance against anything stronger than a Baron. Let alone a Kell or along those lines.

So, the two continued without any further speech.

Along the grooves of the attenuated cliff-sides and hills, there were various remains of animal bones and long-dead plants.

Some of the animals included deer, wolves, elk, moose, feral dogs, birds, eggs, and some small rodents.

Plants were often like berry bushes, trees, herbs, flowers, shrubs, weeds, wildflowers, and a great aroma of nuts.

There was a fresh troupe of eggs laying in a bird nest on the ground a few meters away. Nyx raced over to it and bent down firmly on one knee.

"Egg?" he asked as he lifted up the hard shell.

Ravenwood squatted down beside the Hunter. "What kind of bird laid the eggs?"

Nyx seemed knowledgeable about it. "See the spots on it? The eggs came from an Ash-throated Flycatcher. They're pretty popular here now that all civilization fled."

"Shy bird?" questioned the Titan as he observed the brown-and-hazel egg before him. "Or just not a family guy?"

The Hunter squinted his eyes at the egg. "Not sure. But that's where it came from."

"We should take the eggs and give it to some of the Guardians. Been a while since I ate some fresh meat and protein."

Nyx looked disturbed. "Take it from her nest? Nah, that would be stealing. I'll leave it nice and snug in there."

The Hunter buried the brown egg back into the nest where it came from.

"We need to move."

With that, the duo continued to walk on until they arrived at the rusted, iron doors of the King Banner.

Golden flags rippled in the harsh tones of the wind as the Guardians approached. The single caw of a crow overhead did not diminish Ravenwood's fear that he was being watched.

Nyx-72 led the way to the entrance, then he turned swiftly right and crouched down behind a cargo hold. The Hunter then gestured for the Titan to come over, and the Guardian obliged without much thought.

"I looked over the structure and was lucky to find some holes in the exterior that we could look through. We'll be able to just hop into some ducts if we're lucky."

Ravenwood crossed his arms, shoving Party Crasher +1 out of the way. "Titan plus vent ducts equals stuck, stuck, stuck."

Nyx growled under his breath something rude. "Well, that's what we're doing. Any other way is the invitation for a battle. Besides, we can reach our destination faster if we're crouched and unheard by any frequency emitters."

Ravenwood couldn't help but draw his hand up for a face-palm. "Fine – do whatever you want, then."

The Hunter trudged through the snow until he reached the side of the building, then he pulled out his grapple hook and swung it towards the vent duct. The claw caught on the duct and Nyx pulled the opening straight down, then made sure the rope was tight.

He turned with a smile, however much the Titan could not see it. "After you, Ravenwood."

The ebony-haired male waddled through the uncomfortable, tawny snow piles until he reached his target. Grabbing ahold of the ropes, Ravenwood tugged himself up.

After he'd achieved success with the climb, he looked down at his companion who was already pulling himself along, until he'd managed to get himself up as well.

Cutting the rope loose then pulling it back up towards him, Nyx shut the door to the vent duct, enclosing both Guardians in the shallow darkness.

"Make your Ghost give us some light," Nyx said as he used his own to light the attenuated chambers of the structure. "Before we enter one of the rooms below us." The Hunter searched through the iron walls and touched them with fascination.

Ravenwood sighed before he turned away and began walking through the vent duct, getting his heftier armor caught on nooks and grooves throughout the whole tunnel.

As the Titan looked down into one the rooms, he could see a few Captains surrounding a large troop of Vandals below. They seemed to be reciting war oaths. One the Captains raised up his Shock Blade and roared.

Nyx-72 caught up.

"Where have you been?" asked Ravenwood as the Hunter squeezed by.

Nyx paused. "Um… looking at stuff."

 _Hmm…_

Ravenwood tried his best to look curious about the whole matter. "What stuff?" he asked as he trotted beside his ally.

"Just some Fallen. Nothing important."

 _Liar._

The two walked on through the tunnels until they managed to find a relatively empty room. Two Vandals and a simple, measly Dreg were inside of it. Nyx cut down the roof and hopped in.

" _Gmiar va Hanur?"_ stated the closest Vandal, clearly mystified.

Pulling out his Shock Pistol, the Dreg growled, _"Ghanrudar! Sa'et chey!"_

That statement was obviously some kind of warning, because the other Vandal readied his Slap Rifle, flexing his long, two fingers around the barrel as he aimed the weapon.

Nyx-72 whipped out Final Boss and pointed it at the Dreg's head, whereas Ravenwood pulled out Gjallarhorn and looked towards the Vandals as his target.

"Get 'em," the Exo said as he took the shot, freeing the Dreg's soul from its body. One shot of the explosive Rocket Launcher was enough to take down both Vandals as they opened fire their Slap Rifles with deadly force.

Ravenwood chuckled as he put away his Exotic weapon. "Piece of cake," he joked, kicking aside one of the Fallen's body casually. "Say, you think anyone heard that?"

"Impossible. I made sure – this room is insulated because it used to be a lab to test explosives. So the rough layer of iron around it ensures that it is safe to fire around." Nyx proved his statement by firing rounds of his Hand Cannon, The Last Word.

The Titan nodded. "Okay, let's go."

Pushing open the door of the room, the two Guardians ensured the hallway was empty before entering it.

Silently, they clipped down the hallway, further into the House of Kings campsite. There were a ton of cargo holds and golden banners, clearly having yet to be set up since arrival. It was clear from just a quick look-around that this House had just arrived.

"Hmm," snorted Nyx. "Do you think the Kell would be further into the Refinery? Surely he should be huddled down like a coward in this place. What do you think?"

Ravenwood shrugged. "Possibly. I think we'll know for sure sometime soon. My quest was just to figure out what the Fallen were up to."

"To be honest, I don't really see why their campaign matters to us. If they're all going to die soon, why should we be burying ourselves in their secrets? Shouldn't we be focusing on our own matters instead of the other faction's?"

The Titan pushed open a doorway and entered it with ease, aiming Party Crasher +1 at anything that would move. "I just do it to be tactical, I don't care what you think."

"Fine then. I wasn't asking for your commentary."

 _Hunters._

Soon not saying anything, the duo walked down the narrow channels of Refinery and Fallen base and looked for clues. However, Ravenwood doubted he'd get any unless he found the Kell and his Throne room. Wipe out the Guard, then interrogate the leader of the House of Kings?

Ravenwood led his companion down the hallway towards the cargo drop. There were three Captains, five Dregs, and two Vandals helping with the process.

"Engage or leave them?" the Titan questioned to the Hunter, his gun poised in case of the necessary strike.

Nyx-72 glanced over his shoulder and rolled his svelte Hunter arms. "Leave 'em. You want to find the Kell right? Killing his soldiers won't help us do that."

"You're right," the ebony-haired man agreed. "Let's keep moving down the hallway and see what else we can find. Reckon they have food we can eat?"

"No," Nyx said as he tacked up Final Boss and edged out into the exposed corridor. "Probably not something that is digestible for humans. And possibly Awoken."

Ravenwood followed his ally around the corners of the Refinery, keeping close behind him so as to blend their footsteps together. Nyx's were so much more light and lithe, making it hardly possible to compare.

There was a patrol of Fallen coming by.

" _Guan jar? Vusn khan js-ajn bri."_ That was clearly, form the rough tone, a Baron speaking.

A Vandal was crouched over, adjusted his golden cape behind him, clearly affronted. _"Qun tjan Kan lnua."_

Ravenwood groaned in frustration. He wished he knew what these Fallen were saying. But he knew that would never happen – Variks was not here to translate what all these Kings were saying. But they could always try guesswork.

The Baron shook his head, four arms worked around themselves in a tight arm fold. _"Sin ha ngra oan vul."_ Gesturing to the right, he added, _"Ghanrudar, ba Van Car-ant rna yuan."_

Sneering, the Vandal spat out, _"Yna ann'a-tr!"_

Growling, the Baron smashed the side of his gun into the Vandal's head. Scarlet drops landed on the golden carpet beneath them as blood poured from a gaping wound. The Baron snatched the Vandal and snarled, _"Bna!"_

Being dropped, the Vandal landed on the ground, crippled, his gun now laying askew on the floor.

Left behind, the Vandal began gathering up his things and wiping up the mess on the rug. Ravenwood guess _Bna_ was actually, "Clean it up!"

Nyx nudged the side of the Titan with his gun. "Come on – let's keep moving."

More than willing to oblige, Ravenwood retrieved Party Crasher +1 tighter in his suppressed grip, then looked back out at the Vandal, who was still swiping up the bloody puddle that had formed on the golden carpets.

Up ahead, Nyx had to barrel into cover and hide himself with his arms as the Baron returned to the room, a serrated cleaver in his grasp. Swinging it awry, he snatched the Vandal from off the floor and held him straight, assisted with a bunch of other Captains in the process.

With one slash of the sword, the right lower arm of the Vandal was removed, sending more shards of vermilion blood against the floors and walls. The poor creature emitted heavy screams of terror, thrashing in his pain.

Adding another heave, the blade slashed through the other arm of the Vandal, until he was simply two-armed. Then, the Slap Rifle on the floor was scooped up and thrust into a nearby Captain's hands.

" _Than van-han'ar dregnes!"_ The Baron stepped away, observing the army's newest Dreg, who was bloody and remaining on the ground. Then, kicking away at the creature, he added, _"Bna."_

Soon, the former Vandal was now cleaning the newer mess up himself, left behind by his former peers, stripped of his cape and glowing pride. A disgraceful creature of the fleet, this warrior was now reduced to a Dreg. Ravenwood had never seen it actually happening before. Shuddering, he could see Nyx a few feet away.

"Is he now a Dreg?" questioned the Hunter, dumbfounded. "This House is so brutal!"

Ravenwood shrugged away his fears, knowing it was happening elsewhere as well. "All of the Banners do this procedure, I'm afraid. If we're lucky, he can get his honor back."

Nyx-72 peered at the Dreg. "Was he back-talking the Baron?"

"I think he might have been," mouthed Ravenwood as he pushed lightly off of the Exo. "But we need to keep moving. The Kell and the Archon cannot be too far away from him. I can feel his presence maneuvering among these hallways."

The two bade on their path. As they continued, guards became a bit more common. Sometimes they were Captains, and some other times they were simply Vandals holding long spears and Slap Rifles.

One of the golden doorways was guarded by two menacing-looking Vandals, scars all over their armored torsos. Their eyes stared at the hallways, ensuring no disturbances.

Nyx crouched down and gave a point at the closest Vandal. "That is one of the Kell's Guard. So if that is the Guard, then the Kell must be easily through that doorway."

"Agreed," Ravenwood stated. "Will we need another vent duct to enter the compartment? Or are we okay as of now? Should we kill the Guard?"

Nyx-72 shrugged his shoulders casually. "Doesn't really matter, to be honest. Whatever you'd like. If we prefer doing some more spying that you can't even understand, don't kill them. If you'd prefer to have them dead so they can't cause any trouble, kill them." The Exo stabled his gun as he shoved it towards the door, but also fumbled his hands towards his grapple hook. "Make the choice."

Ravenwood thought about that. He was trying not to attract any of the other Fallen, so he decided with what his gut told him. "We won't kill them. Let them live. Throw open the vent duct so we can get in."

Nyx edged over towards the wall and threw his hook around the duct, potentially shoving it open and allowing entrance. "Now," the Hunter smirked, "you can do whatever spying you'd like. I hope you find what you were looking for, Ravenwood. Or this was just a wasted journey. But it was… interesting, I'll give it that."

The Titan reached for the hook and pulled himself in. Then he stuck down his hand so his ally could climb up the steep wall as well. After that, they shut the door to the vent.

Now, the two Guardians crouched through the corridors, keeping quiet and moving their feet and precise manners. Nyx looked focused.

Ravenwood climbed out over the edge of metal blocking his path, then he found the opening to the room below. Then, he found his targets, the one that had been on his head for the past few days. The Kell and his Archon.

The two were talking, focused on a table with an assortment of maps and things on it. Ravenwood studied the golden Kell closer, and fumbled his hand back and in surprise.

That Kell was a female!

"Nyx," snorted Ravenwood, elbowing the Exo. "Ever seen a girl Kell before?"

Brushing aside the Titan, Nyx-72 admitted sourly, "No. I have not. In fact, I didn't know it was possible for females to become Kells."

The Human pointed down the incline and gestured to the two Fallen standing beneath them, having a deep conversation. "These are the two I saw a yesterday, standing on the top of the peak together. That one looks like a girl to me."

Nyx snorted. "I can see that now," he said as he equipped Final Boss. He leaned towards Ravenwood and snorted, "Pull out Gjallarhorn."

"Why?" the Titan growled as he kept his grip secured on his Shotgun. "We stand no chance against the Kell, Archon, and the Guard all in the same room. We'd be devastated! And again, I tell you this is a spy mission – not an offensive one."

The Exo smiled, Ravenwood assured himself. "Sometimes I forget. Just imagine what bounties we would get off of these Fallen!"

"Probably pretty big, yes," conceded the Titan as he pulled Party Crasher +1 closer to himself. "But that is not what we're here for. Just listen, and perhaps look at the maps that they keep pointing at. Who knows, we may find something worth our time."

The Kell pulled away from the map, twitching her fingers coolly.

Standing apart from her, the Archon looked up and tilted his head. _"Jyn?"_ he asked.

Slinging her arms together, the Kell snorted something and gestured to the map again. Her four eyes flitted back up to where the Archon was standing.

That statement she mentioned just made the Archon shake his head, also beginning to cross just his lower arms together. He touched the fingers of his upper left hand against the leathery texture of the map, and he thrust it down fiercely. Clearly, with what he said, it was almost like he was trying to make a point.

"Wonder what they're saying?" Ravenwood asked as the Kell gave up with the map and began edging her way back to the golden structure and frame of her throne again. She crossed her arms together and tapped her fingers impatiently.

Nyx snorted. "Maybe you're just content now and we can leave?" he gestured back down to the Fallen leaders. "You have seen what you can find from them. They do not even speak in our own tongue, so obviously there is not much to see here."

"We have to try." Ravenwood aimed his Shotgun at the two. "The maps should say something. Are there any indicators of what might be their army at what is the last city? Do they even have a plan to attack the Tower?" Although the Titan found the whole idea not very likely, he had varying suspicions…

Again, the Exo across from him just rubbed the back of his metal neck. "I'll look through my scope and see if I can read the maps better. It's just a bit hard to see it all from up here."

As the Hunter pointed down at the group with his Sniper, Ravenwood began drawing a picture of the base in his head, crouched down beside inside the vent duct. He couldn't see anything beyond the Archon, however.

The Kell still looked distressed, both sets of arms slung together in a very tight fold. Her lip, the Titan guessed, if he could see it, would have been curled up repulsively.

Standing across from her in the room was the Archon, his eyes saying nothing. Maybe it said something to the Fallen, but to the Human and the Exo it seemed as though he was merely expressionless. Cold and eerie, mayhap. It was all so mystifying.

"There," Nyx said as he ripped himself from the scope of his Sniper Rifle, equipping the large weapon to his back with ease. "I've scraped up what I could find out."

Ravenwood narrowed his eyes. "And what was that?" questioned the Titan as he followed his ally's gaze to the two Fallen below.

The Hunter shrugged. "You'll see. I used my Ghost to help decode some the things on there."

Gyrating to further observe his companion's form, the Titan asked, "Your Ghost can read the Fallen language?"

Nyx shrugged. "Don't think so. If he could, I would probably know up to this point. Now that we've figured out all we can manage, are you ready to leave? I know I am."

"Yes, I am. Just let me look at something real quickly."

The Hunter sighed. "Make it quick. We've been out here all night, honestly. Home sounds nice."

Ravenwood crouched over further on one leg to study a few of the objects on the table that the Kell and the Archon had been standing around. Knives, papers, documents… what seemed so odd on it?

Shrugging away his worries, the Titan just looked up.

"I think we can go now," he said as he watched Nyx sharing a few words with his Ghost.

The Exo turned back to look at the Human. "Ready? Make sure you don't forget anything here. Can we use Sparrows?"

"Maybe, since we're leaving. Come on." The Titan shrugged by his ally down the hallway.

Nyx nodded. "Yeah, I hate the idea of being caught by all of these Fallen."

Ravenwood dipped his head. "Doesn't sound so good."

"How do you plan to get out of here?" asked the Hunter as they began crawling down the tunnel.

"Definitely not the way we came in." The Titan approached the closed door of the vent duct.

The Exo nodded. "So, we take a right as soon as we drop out of here? Right in front of all the Kell's Guard?"

Ravenwood shook his head. "No, maybe not that. Just follow my lead, and we'll be alright."

So the two jumped out of the vent duct, scraping a few jars of metal in their descent as they ran for their freedom.


	3. Cold Snap

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Chapter Three:

Cold Snap

Sorkolis could hear the shuffle in the vent ducts even from the floor below. Gyrating to further study the iron hull of the structure, he drew his Shrapnel Launcher from around his shoulder and aimed it imposingly at the small fissure in the side of the tunnel.

Across the room, Rikantor had been watching, her eyes narrowed, and she tapped her fingers against the golden arms of her Throne. She drew her bottom half of arms together as she signaled for answers. "Well?"

The Archon pulled back his weapon and reaffirmed it to his belt, before studying the map below him again. "I just heard… something." Sorkolis shot one last glance behind his shoulder before he returned his previous gesture back on the Kell sitting a few meters ahead of him. "Anyway, this strike is absolutely necessary for the Kings' survival in the Cosmodrome. The Devils should be eradicated!"

"And they will be," the Kell offered as she flexed the fingers on her higher right arms. "I just need to rally what remains of the fleet – any Walkers, Scorch Captains, you, of course…" Rikantor fumbled with her golden cape, sliding the silky linen from between the seizure of her fingers. "Any other suggestions? We'll strike in two sunrises."

Sorkolis looked down at the map, metal fingers entwined together as he observed the written materials on it. Then he offered briskly, "Do not risk all of your fighting warriors on this battle. That is unwise."

Rikantor snorted and bared her teeth, clenching them in a tight hold. "I will let in however I think will do the best for the King Banner. But earlier on the border yesterday, Drevis _did_ pose a threat. Maybe not to you, but there are Fallen who will likely go on patrols that can be burdened by her presence."

"Exactly what I was set off to inform you about yesterday, my liege." The Archon folded both pairs of arms together. "I will grab the Baron and Vulgantor, and we'll see the border scouts for more intel on this investigation. Maybe they'll know something about Drevis and what she is doing at the foot of our territory."

The Kell bared her teeth darkly, a muscle in her cheek feathering slightly as she studied her Archon. "Of course. But you'll be here for the meantime ensuring my survival, first." Rikantor held up one of her svelte fingers.

Sorkolis pulled his gaze away from the intimidating stance of the doorway behind him to peer closely at the Kell. "Why? There's nothing here that could trouble you. And the Guard are always here to help out if you need anything. What for the sudden worry, my liege?" The Archon looked about for any sign of invasion.

"I just picked up a transmission from one of the Kell's Guard – there are several dead carcasses seen in the Infirmary, and the thermal emitters are going haywire." Rikantor studied the door. "You already know what invitation that is."

Growling, the Archon unlatched the Shrapnel Launcher from his belt and curled his teeth up in a defiant snarl. "Devils?" he growled.

Shaking her head, the Kell snorted, "Not very likely. A plan to infiltrate the base of another House with a few mere warriors is not something their Kell would do, if I know him correctly. And unwise, not to add. So the chances of it being other Fallen aren't high, which is subject to one last thing – Guardians."

Pulling his teeth back in a snarl, Sorkolis tightened his seizure over the gun he was wielding, so fiercely his knuckles turned a pale shade of brownish-gray. _"Guardians?_ Here?"

"As far as I'm concerned, it would appear that way. So I prefer you by my side instead of out on the border. Not only does that mean I am safe – it ensures you are as well. I've heard of Guardians with enough might to fell Archons. And the Kell is not far behind them."

Sorkolis snorted and withdrew his hands from the Shrapnel Launcher that was once secured in his tight compression. "Very well, my liege. If that is what you are to prefer."

Once the Archon had drawn close enough to the Throne, the Kell added sharply to the owner of the transmission: "Make sure you up the patrols around the border. We are to have _no_ Guardians entering the border. Not without a fight. Annihilate anything that is not of the King Banner on sight." Then she clicked out of the coordinates and terminated the link.

Crouching on his unyielding legs, the Archon turned and studied the Kell, who was slumped on her throne. "Is there anything you require, my liege?" asked Sorkolis as he flitted his eyes to her.

"Not anything as of right now. I'll just be staying informed with the Guard." The Kell fumbled her gaze over to the jarring sides of the room, legs and lower arms crossed. "In their campaign to ensure the safety of the Kings."

Sorkolis turned to face the leader of his House, all four eyes narrowed. "Are you sure it was even Guardians? It could have been one of the other Fallen contributes, you know that very well."

Rikantor snorted. "I have my doubts. Fallen do not use stealth tactics, but instead strategical raids. Guardians, on the other hand, they tend to think more than the other Houses. Are a bit more on the… smarter side, to put it to a logistical term."

The Archon brushed off his linen cape gently with one hand, the golden material slipping away easily over his grip. Rubbing idly at the back of his head, he suggested, "But what if they were trying to make us think that?"

Rikantor curled one of her lips. "Possibly the Devils would not be smart for such a feat? Especially with that scoundrel of a Kell leading them. And with Drevis following after them."

Sorkolis offered what he had of a shrug, using his upper two limbs to grasp the barrel of his Shrapnel Launcher. "Maybe they are smarter than they let on."

"You think so nicely, Sorkolis. But they cannot possibly be so deceiving. They are downright bound of glee with their fighting skills; if they had such intellect they would be willing to share so carelessly as well. Think these things over, Archon." The Kell drew her arms together in a tight fold.

Gyrating, the Archon conceded, "Very well." He propped himself up onto two of his resistant legs and growled, "Let me go to the Guard and figure out what they have found."

Before he could have walked out, the Kell said something.

"Hold on! The Guard are already on their way here – and with news. Stay at my side, Sorkolis. I need to see what this is up to."

Two of the Vandals had entered the room, holding to their spears with tight, suppressed grips. One of them, adorned in a variety of war trophies and golden cloaks, stepped forward and lifted his smug chin. "We have news for the Kell, and the Kell alone."

"Sorkolis stays. Tell me what you want." Rikantor gestured for the smug Vandal to talk.

He immediately obliged. "News has it that Drevis has left the Devils. Two King scouts were patrolling the nearest cliffs and had investigated a few of the Red Banner conversing among the hills. They spoke of Drevis' absence in camp."

Intrigued, Rikantor lifted her head. "What probed her to resign from her duties as the Devil Baroness?"

This time, the Vandal did not seem so proud. He seemed shaken slightly – Sorkolis wondered whatever the matter was. "They also mentioned the reason why their 'beloved' Baroness had pulled from her duties."

"Why is that?" demanded Sorkolis, his voice a deep and rocking growl within his chest. "Speak and do not waste time."

The Vandal cut in rudely, "Skolas. She left because of Skolas."

Already feeling the tension of the Kell next to him, who was tapping her fingers against the arm of her throne, Sorkolis could feel his own shudders at the quote of the Kell of Kell's name. Only a night ago had him and Rikantor spoken of the escape of a warrior stronger than the mightiest group of Fallen.

"S-Skolas?" queried the Kell, leaning forward in her Throne slightly. "I do not understand – he was left in the Prison of Elders."

The other Guard, having been silent through the whole conversation, decided it was time for him to speak. "They also spoke of him escaping the clutches of the Reef's Queen, who is on his trail right now. He used a stolen Reef transporter and found his way to Drevis here, where she loyally follower her lover to the deep beyond. Where they are now is not for us to know."

Rikantor's eye muscles feathered in the slightest ways. "How did he escape?" she growled, a fierce look on her mighty face.

"He fooled the guards at the Prison of Elders. After he had left the bonds of his cage, he murdered everyone at the entrance and used their heads to pass the monitors. Afterwards, he fought himself out and hopped aboard one of their vessels currently in stasis, running of the tiniest slimmer of Ether. Then he blasted in space. He was lucky the ship was in a mild mode, or else it would have detected an uninvited presence there and shut him out."

The Kell still looked like she was going to claw her eyes out of their sockets. "But is he going to rally what was left of the Wolves? We made a mighty mistake making a team with him last time he was in control – it killed off half of our fleet. Not from Skolas' treachery, but from Guardians in a campaign to end his quest."

"He will likely grab what remains of the Wolves. Then retry his conquest for power." The Vandal gripped that spear he held with great power. "I hope you do not accept his offer. It made all the other Houses find us weak, dependable, and easy prey."

Rikantor snarled and shoved her finger at the Guard. "I was trying to help that Kell! I would never make the same mistakes! Ever since the day of my alliance all of the other Kells have been in their mad surge to end my life! You do not realize that I am slowly rebuilding what remains of our fleet? The King Banner is dying before our very eyes."

Looking over at the Kell, Sorkolis felt an odd twinge in his stomach at the sight of her. He wasn't sure what it was; he didn't like it. "Do not listen to the Guard, they pester you to no bounds. I make myself clear for the both of you to withdrawn from our presence."

Since they could not object, the two Vandals exited the room without another word – Rikantor clamped her hands around her head in a sigh. A sigh full of clear agitation and apprehension. She must have been worried for her Fleet, the loyal Archon guessed.

"I never took what they said too seriously. But it makes me full of agony to realize what I'd truly done for this fleet. We have already died – I am one of the largest bounties available in the entire system across the intergalactic space-wire. There is no escaping the bonds of the death surely closed in for me."

As Rikantor shut her eyes from the pain throbbing in her heart, Sorkolis daringly reached for one of her hands and took it with his own, closing his palm around her smaller one. "Do not worry, my liege. They would not reach you here, not ever."

The Kell… smiled. "I wish I could know your reasoning. But you and the fleet would never best an army of all the other Houses. I am soon condemned to die. Maybe not too soon, but it will happen before I know it. Before we all."

"Then we would be leaderless. Trust me, Rikantor – I would never let anyone hurt you. You do what you can for this House. And they will do what they can for you." Sorkolis released her grip and let the Kell flex her svelte fingers, obviously reorienting herself from the bonds of her terrible grief.

Rikantor shot him a suppressed look. "But Skolas is out – we are obviously dead soon. He will make sure every House bows to the Wolves Banner."

Pulling away from the Throne, Sorkolis ensured, "If the other Fallen troops do not stop the mad Kell, the Guardians will as they did last time. You have yet to fear, my liege. The only thing you should come to worry about is the endless nagging in your heart."

"Maybe. But the Guardians are gone, as far as I am getting from updates. You can abandon my presence for now, unless I require your assistance. Maybe you should heal your wounds further? That fight with Drevis wrecked you poor." The eyes of the Kell scanned her Archon up-and-down pointedly.

Feeling a flicker of red pass his face, the Archon suggested, "Very well, I will see to that then. Do not hesitate to call me to your aid."

Shaking her head that rattled with adornments, the Kell promised, "Of course I won't. Shall we continue with that map later? We still need to plan the exact route in which we take to the Devil Banner. I still have no decided which entrance would be… less guarded."

Sorkolis glanced behind his shoulder shallowly. "I can send some scouts tomorrow to investigate the campsite. If you would prefer me to accompany them, you may as well say so."

"I suppose I could do with your input, Sorkolis. I trust you more than any other in this House. If someone tells the truth, I know it will be you." The Kell rubbed behind her neck sourly. "But I can see the wounds on you, clearly last time I invited you to the Infirmary you didn't take the option. Go relieve yourself of the pain, then see to the Baron on the highest floor. He has… intel that he would like to share with you."

Sorkolis turned and opened the metal-framed doors of the Throne Room. "Will you be okay?" he demanded.

Nodding, the Kell gestured pointedly towards the door. "Of course. I have already ordered some of the Guard to come and protect me, if the time need be. But the most important thing right now is to ensure your healing has been done properly. Mend your wounds." With that, she returned her limbs to the arms of her Throne.

"If that is what you insist, my liege," promised the Archon as he shoved open the door to the hallway.

There were six Vandals, eight Dregs, Vulgantor and the female Scorch Captain, as well as four Captains waiting on the outside of the door. Sorkolis glanced over at Vulgantor and lifted his arms.

The male Scorch Captain shrugged helplessly. "I guess they thought here was a decent place to get the chat moving," he snorted, drawing his arms together in a fold.

"Then tell them to move. Rally yourself and your ally and see to them reciting the 'Oaths of _Van-dna'n Hu.'_ It is important for them to understand." Sorkolis eyed the warriors, feathering a muscle in his eye.

Vulgantor obeyed. "Make way for the Kell's Guard," he snarled, shoving a Vandal out of the way with his mighty fists. "Report to the _Shax-n_ immediately!"

Drifting along, the crowd started to move, save for the Captains, who followed lastly.

Sorkolis pushed by several Dregs and entered the stairwell, walking up the flight of stairs. Whatever the Baron needed, he wasn't sure. What had been unsaid as of these past few days?

Of course, other than the absence of Skolas in the Prison of Elders. How that colossus has escaped, the Archon would never know. Yet again, even he, as an Archon, the direct link between the Ether and Servitors to the Fallen fleet, did not understand everything about that warrior.

Yet again, Skolas had ever so recently been risen from the depths of his whirling stasis of madness – so he was, despite Variks' knowing, a very mysterious force within the presence of all the Prime Servitors.

The stairwell was covered with dirt, sticks, crackled leaves, debris, and other encumbrances at the Archon pressed his way up the sharp inclines. No wonder they'd initially planned for lifts stationed around here.

But the Baron, going by the name of Horcrexis, had undoubtedly informed the Kell of his finds? Surely she could not have just told him then and there. Maybe it was a more personal ration of things. Maybe he'd lost a friend? Other than the Kell, Sorkolis was not sure who he would mind losing.

Besides, Fallen hardly ever developed a rational bond with each other. Not on purpose or hostility, it was just their thing.

Opening the hatch at the top of the stairs, the Archon shoved himself through and felt the cold winds of the Cosmodrome batter him leniently in the face. Wanting to withdraw and subside back to the darkness but deciding against it, Sorkolis scrambled to his feet and looked around.

The top of the Refinery was covered with leaves and sticks, hoarded with plants and weeds that had sprouted over the top of the concrete finishes.

Fissures if the cracked hull gave light to the inside of the structure beneath, not that the Archon was bothered by this. Sometimes the din of the lights inside the building did not provide enough support for the overwhelming darkness.

And there, on the edge of the rooftop, was Horcrexix, the awkward Baron of the Kings. The only one left standing. Along with Yutis.

Pointedly after the fall of the other Barons: Phyksin, Paskin, and Vekis.

"Ah, you have arrived, Archon," the Baron said as he gyrated to further study the Priest of the King Banner. "How pleasant to see you."

Sorkolis snorted and drew his Shrapnel Launcher to his side, upper hands containing a firm seizure on the military weapon. In a gravelly voice, the Archon demanded, "Baron. What is it that you want?"

Gyrating slightly as if to address the higher-ranking Fallen in a more appropriate tone, the Baron confirmed, "Just something I thought you should know."

"Why so private?" hissed Sorkolis as he glanced over at the lesser Warrior standing beneath him. "Surely the Kell knows about this?"

The Baron shrugged wordlessly. "You can tell our liege if that is what you prefer. I just thought you'd want to know. Besides, you were the one that went out into the darkness to find Tilakis after all."

Sorkolis rubbed some rubble off of his golden cloak. In a spiteful tone, he growled, "Does this have something to do with that Vandal?"

"It would appear that way. It seems as though Thralls was the answer to his murder – as well as a whole other dropship out there on the way. Seems unlikely enough that the dropship was holding Shannu and his mother, Omnigul. They have currently stationed patrols across the Terrestrial Complex."

That statement paused the Archon. "Shannu?" he barked. "Whatever would Crota's son want to do here?"

"Kill, to put it simply. In other words, capture as many Guardians and Fallen as he can and torture them, with his mother's consent. She is a Witch, after all. She'd love to get her hands on _Van Car-ant_ like me and you. _Ghanrudar?"_

Again, Sorkolis was stopped. "Why would you not tell Rikant – I mean, the Kell, about the arrival of one of the strongest members in the entire Hive?"

The Baron shrugged mindlessly. "It would appear it might mean more to you. Maybe a patrol could go out over the rocks in the Cosmodrome and mayhap put an end to Shannu. His mother will shortly follow. After that, we mount their heads on the wall for Crota himself to observe."

"We won't just rush in like that," growled the Archon. "There must be something else we can do. And we still have to fight the Devils that are on the other side of the border. Did you hear about the fact that Drevis is no longer with them?"

That seemed to spike the Baron's interest. "Whatever for?" he requested.

"Skolas, it would appear, coming from the Guard."

The Baron stiffened. "It seems as though we have four major threats to worry about. The Kell will not be pleased." After that, he simply lowered his head down and sighed. "Shannu will come and try to find the House Kings. He will not find them."

"We have to make sure he doesn't. After I am done with this conversation, I am to be heading off to my quarters for a nap, then will further study the Servitor and House of Demon artifacts I picked up on a walk." Sorkolis mildly remembered the enjoyable stroll he and the Kell had taken around the border earlier. But he decided not to mention Rikantor.

Rivulets of moonlight fell onto the roof of the Refinery. The attenuated slivers brought scars of shining energy across the two Fallen standing side-by-side.

The Baron turned and focused intently on the Priest. "If that is what you need. I just thought alerting someone of the Dreg's finds would be a necessary action to take for the survival of the King Banner."

"You did well. But yes, I am going down to my chambers. I will have you assist me on the journey to the Devils' camp. We're investigating locations on which way to enter their base with the Walkers."

Looking down thoughtfully, the Baron said, "How nice. Who else will be accompanying you down there? Will Vulgantor and Yunatir be going?"

Yunatir, the Archon recalled, was the female Scorch Captain.

"Likely," admitted Sorkolis drily. "They seem to be a help around here, especially being the only-remaining Scorch Captains we have left in our fleet. Ever since the others left in the raid above _Erde-Balane._ Such a shame that nearly three fourths of the King Banner was devastated in that battle."

Glancing idly over his shoulder, the Baron grumbled, "We were fighting against both the Exile and Winter Banners – fully packed with Walkers, Skiffs, and vicious Captains. Honestly you were expecting a successful raid?"

Shaking his head, the Archon spat, "No. But I thought we were prepared. Now we have to fight the Devils, who arrived one day after we did. Life's not fair for the King Banner."

"No, but we fight, as the most brutal House of the Fallen. Our success will come – we have enough time to avenge the battle of _Erde-Balane._ Give it time. That is exactly what the Kell was planning we do. Don't worry for us."

"I will always worry, Horcrexix. Remember that. Now, I can thank you for the conversation. But tomorrow the Kell will be aware of Shannu's presence in Old Russia. Not sure why you didn't bother to let her know, especially if you confronted her just to let me know that you required my assistance." Sorkolis rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.

The Baron snorted. "I just believed by the Prime Servitor Overlords that you were to be the one to notify. As I recall, you can always let our liege know of the burden. I hope to see you tomorrow as we scour the Devil's Base, Archon. I wish to you a good night's rest – you deserve it."

With that, the Baron walked off with his golden cape flying behind him majestically against the silhouette of the moon ascending in the air to its climax. Then, he began his walk down the opposing flight of stairs to the Refinery interior.

Sorkolis attended to himself on the bottom layer, making sure his chamber was close enough to Rikantor's come the time she might need something.

Other than lacking proper dissection tools and a night of loathing, revolting realization, the Archon could not find himself doing this for too much longer. After putting down the orange artifacts and curling up into the fur-lined "bed" he provided himself, he let sleep overwhelm his latest thoughts:

Shannu in the Cosmodrome? This was not the invitation for good luck.

* * *

Morning light seeped through the gaps in the top of the Refinery. The Archon pulled himself out of his chamber and stepped into the hallway – the Baron, Vulgantor, Yunatir, a troop of Vandals and Dregs, as well as a Captain, were lined up in the hallway.

"I see you've already sorted yourselves together," snorted the Archon as he studied the members of the fleet – all wearing the heavy armor of the Elite Kings. Some of the Guard watched from their post beside the Kell's room, intrigue written on their faces. Surely they knew about the plan to get on the Devil's base?

Vulgantor nodded and growled, "The Kell made sure of it."

 _Oh did she? Now nice…_

The Baron nodded. "Let's get to it then. We don't have time to waste. Even though the Devil Banner's base won't be more than two clicks from here, they could be easily getting scout patrols ready for the morning. The sooner we leave – the less chance we have of getting caught."

Sorkolis nodded. "We take up the Pikes and head out for the base. We will not engage through the front but from the starboard side. Chances are it is vulnerable and will be a soft spot for the Walkers."

After these words of acknowledgement, the group started making their way out of the front gates and onto their Pikes. Some of the Vandals and Dregs stayed on the ground. The Scorch Captains preferred to walk as well.

Sorkolis mounted up and booted the system, accelerating the thrusters and keeping the energy deposits stable. Once cleared, he gestured for the patrol to roll out.

Cool wintery air came in swathes across the patrol as they made their way out into the depths of Old Russia. The sounds of the ocean crashing into the rocks below met the ears of the Fallen.

A windswept clearing revealed a variety of shrubs, leaves, tattered leaves, and dead trees from their hiding spots. Some animals were scouting the cliffs as well – the Fallen ignored these native specimens.

Sorkolis rolled out under the glowing glare of the sun, the rays beating down on his face and armored legs. The others seemed undisturbed as they followed their Archon.

Of course, nearly once they hit the border of the Terrestrial Complex, red banners that were tattered and flailing, breezed in the winds that ripped across the Cosmodrome. It was time to enter Devil territory.

The Archon pressed his hand against his transmitter. _"Van Car-ant! Sna' hran ywna._ Make sure you're not caught!"

Since they were the strongest of the Kings, the group took these words seriously. To put it in the English way, Sorkolis had warned: "Fallen! Now entering enemy borders. Make sure you're not caught!"

It was pretty basic – _Van Car-ant_ is "Eliksni."

 _Ghanrudar_ is "Yes."

The grounds were swept with winds that tore at the ground and sky. Thunderous clouds rolled overhead and promised good weather. Luckily the chances of another snowstorm were terribly low. The Kings would not be disturbed.

The dimly-lit structure of the Devil's camp was crawling into view as the House Kings approached. The low hum of the Pikes gave off some cover giveaway, but it was not enough for thermal transmitter in the base to pick up.

Red banners still lit the Fallens' four eyes as they made their way up the intrepid inclines and steep drops. Soon enough that visible right side would be spotted among the bushes, and the area would be mapped for the Kell to acknowledge. Then, a day later, a strike would hit the Devils and hopefully have them running back to where they came from.

King Banner would truly have the advantage of surprise.

Sure, there were dangerous Hive Knights scouring the landscape behind the Terrestrial Complex, but what else was there to do? If engagement was made on Shannu, the House of Kings would fall. Especially since Omnigul was there as well.

Avoiding jarring rocks, Sorkolis weaved his way up the path. A few Skiffs were landed above the camp, possibly unloading cargo and supplies that would mean for a long-term stay.

 _Nice try. But that won't be happening._

Since they were close enough to that starboard opening, the Fallen jumped off their Pikes and began picking their ways up the slope.

Sometimes the Wire Rifle of a Vandal would turn in the direction of the Kings, but the latter were always faster. Trees, rocks, dirt, sand, grime, and shrubs were enough cover for even the tallest of the Fallen warriors.

Indeed, the Baron's prediction had been accurate – there were absolutely no Fallen guarding the base's starboard side – yet. Soon enough they would have that covered, because it was morning. Not everyone had awoken from their rest quite so early.

Crouched behind some cover, Sorkolis eyed the incline in which he'd initially planned to get to the right side of the structure. It was well-hidden form any mechanics that might spot them, despite the fact that the Pikes had had to been left behind in order to keep a safe measure on things.

The Baron pushed his way by the Scorch Captains. "Are we ready to investigate?" he submitted, scanning the walls of the building. "Do you see any Devils? They are going to be out here soon, so this mission had better be quick."

"Of course it will be," promised Sorkolis. "Relax. Just let me see if there is a way up I can get to. After I find it, I'll let the rest come up as well."

The Archon shoved himself off the side of the grassy alcoves and looked towards the towering structures ahead of him. He had to be quick, or else the Devils inside would be able to detect his presence among them.

Scraping his rough hands along the sides of the metal walls, the high-ranking member of the Kings looked for any handholds that the others could grapple up with.

Hooking his majestic hands into a loop, Sorkolis pulled himself up the wall and landed feebly on the other side. Now he could see into the camp, all their Walker stashes, barracks, weapon holds…

"Did you find anything?" questioned Vulgantor as he slipped into view below the catwalk.

The Archon nodded. "Affirmative. Let me give you all a hand."

First, he helped up the Scorch Captains, then the Baron, and after it all the Dregs and Vandals that had accompanied the mission. Soon, all of them were positioned on the catwalk and were focused on the camp below.

"Well, their army has multiplied," growled the Baron as he crouched down beside the railings. "Surely more than the last time I saw them. We'd better make sure that this 'surprise' is lucky."

Sorkolis nodded in his agreement. "It would seem so… I shall report this to the Kell upon our return. What else can you see? Any other vulnerable spots?"

One of the Dregs looked over the bars. "Umm… Not that I'm aware of. As far as this is going, I believe that we're standing on the feeblest location."

"You're right," agreed Vulgantor as he lifted the heavy Scorch Cannon over his might shoulders. "There would be no place better than this one. Maybe we can get a look at their commands center?"

"Don't waste your time on it," snarled Sorkolis as he eyed the campsite with his glowing four eyes. "As far as I need to know, this was what we were supposed to be doing – looking for a good route to take to their camp. So map these locations in your head before our return."

Clutching his Wire Rifle, the Vandal closest to the Baron said, "Let's also make sure we keep our heads down, while we're at it. I think a patrol is coming out of the barracks."

The Priest flitted his gaze towards the entrance of the bronze holding room, and a troop of Dregs were exiting the site. They held Shock Pistols and Blades in their suppressed grips, and from the looks on their visible, exposed mouths, they were aggressive.

Once getting to the middle of the camp, the patrol stopped and awaited orders. Out of the corner of his eye, Sorkolis saw their Servitor chained to the ground and glaring at them, making inaudible noises. The Dregs bent over in a bow, clearly respecting the gargantuan machinery, before they began heading to the closest stairwell.

"Get down!" hissed the Baron as he shoved Sorkolis to the floor. Rubbing his lower right hand from injury, the Archon turned as he watched the group heading to the catwalk.

Vulgantor looked frantic. "We have to leave, now! The other House cannot know that we were watching them, or doom will surely befall the King Banner!" He reached for Yunatir, and the female Captain took his hand and was helped lifting to her feet.

Sorkolis knew that as well. The Pikes were still untacked a few hundred meters from the campsite. He nodded in approval. "I'll take on half of the patrol, Vulgantor takes the other half. I'll bring the Baron, along with those Vandals and Dregs. You take Yunatir, and the other half."

Once they were split, Sorkolis led his group down the catwalk as the Devils approached. Heart racing, the Archon ducked down into the nearest available spot and landed in the wintery snow beneath him.

"Come on!" he growled, gesturing to the rest of the fleet. "We cannot let the Devils find us here."

The Baron launched himself off the side of the metal railing, crashing into the ground underfoot as well. He aptly padded to the side to so much as stay out of the way. Soon enough, the others came down as well.

"Don't waste any time," the Baron snarled, shoving a Dreg out of the way as he raced down the snowy corridor. "Sorkolis, you take the lead."

Slipping ahead of the squadron, the Archon made his way down the snowy incline as he dashed towards the Pikes down below. The sounds of other footsteps behind him muffled the racing of his own heart.

Clumps of snow soon enough became burdens as the patrol dashed on. The silhouettes of Vulgantor's escape party were soon visible against the outline of the sun. Warm heat radiated down the group as Sorkolis watched the shadows of the Scorch Captains barreling towards their destination.

Jutting out to an awkward angle, the Archon of the King Banner led the way down the slopes as he reached the Pikes ahead of him. The loud parties that were running away from the Devils must have caught their attention – because one of the Dregs shouted, "Intruders! Kings on Devils' land!"

Knowing these words must have started a commotion on the inside of the camp, Sorkolis continued on as he ran. Mounting up on his Golden Pike, he gestured for the Baron to hop on as well. But the Dregs and Vandals were much too slow for the feat – leaving them far behind the patrol…

"They risked their lives for a great cost," growled the Archon. "But they must be left – we cannot afford to be here too long."

Nodding, the Baron took off for the hills on his Pike, cape flowing majestically behind him. Vulgantor and the others were now visible as they dashed to the Pikes, but their slopes were much rockier and less snowy, so their entire patrol made it down to the dispatch zone.

"You're not waiting for your group?" asked Yunatir as he leapt aboard her Pike, resetting the boosters.

Sorkolis shook his head. "They're an encumbrance to this evasive maneuver. They must be left behind, I'm afraid. Get going, all of you. We have no time to waste."

The Pikes began on the long roll, tearing up any grass or debris in the way. The left-behind Dregs and Vandals began shouting for help as the Devils escaped their campsite, using Wire Rifles to pick off every single on the group.

The Archon didn't look back… he didn't want to. Couldn't.

 _It was for the safety of everyone else, right?_

Ahead of him, only the streaming tailors on the back of the Baron's Pike booster were visible. Another snowstorm was beginning; hopefully that would provide cover for the group. It did not seem as thick as the last one only a few mere days ago. Maybe this one could actually not obscure everything in vision.

The group continued on over the snow, flurries of sticks and leaves getting stirred up by the ravenous wrath of the cold air. A bitter chill sent the ruff of the Archon's fur necklace on end.

Eventually the storm became thick, but Sorkolis had memorized what remained of the barren landscape the first few days of his being here. The shouts of the Vandals and Dregs soon blended in to the land beyond.

Rusted red-and-brown walls soon made their way into the high-ranking's view as he pressed on through the weather. A few Captains were guarding the entrance, although they seemed paranoid of the bitter cold.

Tacking up his Pike, the Archon swiftly jumped down from his vehicle as he landed on the concrete floor. One of the nearby Dregs led the Golden Pike to the Dispatch Zone and hooked it up. Nearby, the Baron was dusting off his cape idly as he attended to himself, a scowl on what was visible of his face. Then, he looked up at the Archon as the larger ranking approached him.

"You didn't tell me what you and the Kell were talking about a few days ago, when I walked in to retrieve Tilakis' body."

Sorkolis snorted. "I didn't believe it was on my part to do so. In fact, if it was ever your business at all. We were just conversing, no matter." He rubbed his face as if to hide the red on it – the Baron had walked in on a confession, if anything. The Archon wasn't going to say anything about that.

The Baron snorted. "I was just asking, my friend," he growled coldly, the fur on his neck that he wore as an adornment tingling in the soft breeze slightly. "But you are right – you and the Kell's conversations are not of my knowing."

 _That's what I thought, you sneaky_ Van Car-ant!

Vulgantor and Yunatir had driven up to the base as well, although half of their patrol had been scaled down. Apparently Wire Rifles, looking at all the marks along the front of the Captains' Pikes.

"Did you see what happened to the others?" asked Sorkolis, although he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Yunatir removed the luxurious cape from her shoulders, eventually tacking down her Pike as well. "They were sniped, I'm afraid. Could not make it to their Pikes. The region they were at was too snowy and bitter."

The other Scorch Captain nodded in agreement. "Why did you leave them? I know the count was about four, but every member these days in the Kings count. You know that the Kell will not approve of this."

"And she would like it less if both her Baron and her Archon were set free," growled Sorkolis as he drew his arms together in a tight fold, setting up his Shrapnel Launcher on one of the wall hooks. "And those four as well."

Yunatir snorted. "I know you always mean well, Sorkolis. But if you'd covered them, maybe they would still exists. And the Devils must be coming over as well. You know that this is information the Kell must be sure of." The Scorch Captain also folded her arms up.

"I understand that they will act with violence. I will announce to the Guard and our liege about the problem. Every one of us will have to be ready." The Archon dipped his head, hoping the Scorch Captain would approve.

She seemed to. "Very well," she snorted. "I see that you were only doing for the best of the Kings. I bid you a good day, sir." The Captain, as well as her best companion, Vulgantor began withdrawing to the darkness in the rooms to the side of them. The Baron appeared disturbed as Sorkolis gyrated to study him.

"This is grave news," he decided as he focused on the ground below him. "The patrol is very likely to be telling one of their high-ranking about this… And who knows about Shannu. This might be the end of the Kings, Sorkolis."

The Archon shook his head. "No matter what happens, the Kings will not be dead. We will not fare like the House of Demons or Rain. We will fight for as long as we can, and let our scribes write about our victory. Our Ketch has been docked somewhere, so we can escape if the time need be."

"We barely escaped _Erde-Balane!_ What makes you think we will be able to escape Crota's son, House Devils, Guardians, and all the other Banners that are surely trying to find us right now?" The Baron looked affronted, scared, and sad – if the Kell or any high-ranking was to pass, the Kings would be in a frenzy.

Sorkolis growled fiercely. "Absolutely do not speak to me in such a tone. We will always find a way, Baron."

Now, this time, the smaller ranking just sighed. "I sure hope I can trust that," he rumbled, casting his eyes to the floor again.

 _Why wouldn't you?_

Snorting, the Archon drew away from the cold presence of one of the only remaining King Barons. "We will always. Now, can you see to the fact if the Kell is here?"

"She should be. Where else would she be?"

Sorkolis shrugged. "Mayhap the Guard are informing her of some vital intel. Just go up there and see."

As the Baron turned away from his Archon, Sorkolis adjusted himself to another flight up stairs to the right instead. He was going to have a small chat with some of the Fallen trackers and scribes before he went off to see the Kell.

The inside of the chamber was shadowy and gloomy as expected – but trackers preferred it here. Some Vandals were crouched beside glowing, purple computer screens, their eyes fixed on the monitors. One Servitor was floating beside the motherboard, its singular optic focused solely on the approaching Archon.

"Hmm… the Archon is here. Whatever you need that we have of use to you, Sorkolis?" That was one of the Dregs speaking, using one of his two hands to grapple his chin suspiciously. "Why did you not send Vulgantor to grab information?"

Sorkolis could see the silhouette of his House-mate standing before him. Although it was a Dreg, this was one of the most valued trackers in the Kings. "The Scorch Captain did not come because he does not know," the Archon growled.

That got the head of the Dreg to tilt, narrowing those four gleaming eyes he had. "What does he not know?" the inferior teammate demanded, tapping his fingers against the metal computer behind him.

"Crota's son, Shannu, has arrived by dropship in the Cosmodrome, hiding about our many cliffs and alcoves. I have come to the trackers to see if they could perhaps help me find our Hive enemy."

Gyrating so he could study the screen, the Dreg asked, "How do you know of this?"

"The Baron informed me of it. The source he acquired it from is not of my knowing." Although Sorkolis did, in fact, know the source, he decided to keep the Dreg from further questioning.

"I see. Have you found any evidence or clues of Hive existence in any certain areas? And if you don't mind me asking, does the Kell know of this?" The Dreg crossed his arms together, his eyes turning slightly to notice the Archon behind him.

Sorkolis growled, "She will be likely to know soon. I just thought the King's trackers should be informed. Perhaps you could send out a mission to explore the Terrestrial Complex's areas."

The Dreg snorted. "We will do just as, thank you. And you were right about making sure we knew – if someone were to pick up the tracks of Shannu first, it would be us."

Dipping his head to acknowledge the Dreg, Sorkolis turned to back out before the Dreg decided to ask another question. "Oh, could you hold up a moment? I have acquired another thermal reader for you." The inferior ranking Fallen reached out for the Archon.

Grabbing the drive, Sorkolis waved his hand. "Thank you. I bid you and the rest of the fleet a good day." The Archon began backing out of the confined reaches of the gloomy trackers quarters, shaking off his majestic cape without another thought…

That got the Archon wondering, of course – what if Shannu decided to bring siege about the House of Kings? What would befall their Banner if that were to happen? Clenching all four of his fists, Sorkolis decided he didn't want that kind of thought to enter his mind. He couldn't allow his beloved House to fall under the wrath of the Crota' son, grandson of Oryx.

However, he was already aware of the fact that there would be casualties. Many of them. But as long as no one of a superior rank fell, the House should be okay.

Settling down a bit, the Archon decided to go check in on the Kell. His last remark to the Baron had been simply to get him away, but this time he intended on letting his liege know about the presence of the Hive in Old Russia.

A few of the Guard were, as usual, crouched beside the entrance to the Throne Room.

Sorkolis approached them, and the one that was to the right looked up, a scowl firmly planted on his face.

"Not another disturbance," he growled, closely crossing his lower set of arms together as he grappled his spear. "What do you want?"

The Archon dipped his head in a submissive manner at the Vandal. "Simply to see our liege, if you don't mind."

That got the Vandal growling. "You know the drill, Sorkolis – make it quick."

With that word of approval, the two Vandals stepped aside and let the higher-ranking member into the chambers.

Pushing open the door slightly, Sorkolis let his eyes file the room thoroughly.

The Kell was, as usual, slumped on her Throne, drumming her fingers against the golden arms.

Some Dregs were begging for mercy at the side of the room, and a Captain was hovering above them all.

At the sudden entry, Rikantor glanced up from her duties. It looked like she was trying to stifle the surprised gleam in her eyes.

"Sorkolis, how nice to see you," she growled, curling her fingers together. "The rest of you, leave my presence! I have a few words that need to be shared with the Archon."

Trotting ahead a few feet, Sorkolis hesitated at the center of the chamber. "What is it you must demand of me, my liege?" he questioned, patience lacing his tone in svelte ribbons.

Once all the others had left, the Kell had softened her tone – "I see you've returned. How did things go?"

That caused another wave of reluctance to overwhelm the Archon. "There are in fact a few things I do have to say. Some things do not involve what we found out at the Devil's campsite."

"What is it?" requested Rikantor, her tone placid.

Sorkolis tapped his huge fingers against his linen, massive cape. "Well, before we get to our invasion, I'll let you know what the Baron decided to tell me."

The Kell must have sensed his nervousness, because her friendly tone had diminished and with it a rather apprehensive snarl. "And what would that be, loyal Archon?"

"He informed me that a Hive cruiser landed behind the Terrestrial Complex just a day ago. On board it was Shannu, the son of Crota."

Curling her fingers, Rikantor demanded, "And what has _he_ to be doing on Earth? Surely his father would have him guarding the darkness beneath the Moon over there?"

Shaking his head, Sorkolis promised, "I am not aware of his intentions during the stay here. But I do know that he also has Omnigul on his side as well. It would appear as such that his mother has business here as well. However, that also remains classified to me. My apologies, Rikantor."

Growling, a muscle feathering in her eyes, the leader of the King Banner was obviously fighting back her snarl. "You should have saved the bad news for last…" she huffed, clearly exasperated.

That remark made the Archon tap his fingers as well. "Yes, there is some. But tell me – what do you plan to do with Shannu?"

"I'll figure that all out later, Sorkolis. The most important threat that remains is that of the _Van Car-ant._ What did you find within the Devil's camp?" the Kell demanded.

Now that they were on better terms, Sorkolis responded, "Just as the Baron predicted, the right side of the fortress was the least guarded. However, I do have some bad news."

Rolling her pupil-less eyes, the Kell snarled, "What now?"

"On our way out, we were… caught, but some of the Devils' patrol groups. So they found us invading." This was where the Archon was getting a bit more reluctant.

Again, Rikantor picked up that emotion in a few mere seconds. "Well?" she barked.

"Some of our members were too slow to escape. I had to leave behind a group before this snowstorm hit."

That only got the Kell snarling. "Again, you have led the patrol to a few more causalities. Do you need to be _downgraded,_ Sorkolis? How many will die with you as the leader?"

Not responding to her comment, the Archon continued, "Me and the Baron escaped, as well as the other group that was escaping. Now, that is not the only news… me and the Scorch Captains believe that the Devils are on their way here right now. For battle."

For her response to that bit of news, Rikantor removed herself from the seat of her Throne and began approaching the door towards the chamber's entrance. "I cannot let that happen," she warned viciously.

"Where are you going?" requested Sorkolis as he turned to face his leader. "Surely you will not be abandoning the protection of our home?"

Opening the door with the fists of her two right arms, the Kell growled, "I will do what I must. You can accompany me or I will go alone. The choice is up to you."

As Rikantor began padding down the steps, the Archon took two graceful bounds to catch up to her. He worked his hand over her upper left arm, initially holding her down. In front of all the Guard.

Glancing to both sides, the Kell couldn't remove the blush from her face as she pulled her arm free of Sorkolis' grip. All the Guard at the entrance had lifted up their spears and aimed it at the Archon.

Rikantor settled them down with a wave of her hand, but she focused her gaze solely on Sorkolis. "Yes?" she demanded, but even the Archon could detect the warmth radiating from her face.

"You will not be able to stop an invasion, my lord. Remember – we are the House of Kings. The most brutal, violent House currently in existence. They will remember all the things we have done to them. They will attack."

Receding her lip, the Kell growled, "Very well." Stepping away from Sorkolis, she added with a snarl, "But I will got to the border and see proof of this 'invasion'."

Bounding forward, Sorkolis offered, "I will assist you, if that is what you wish."

One of the Kell's Guard growled, "How can we trust you?"

"Yeah," another agreed. "That _Syna pupt'a_ grabbed the Kell!"

Rikantor turned to face the lot of them, her growl powerful and mighty. "Enough! Sorkolis always means the best for me. He would not slay his own Kell whom he has promised allegiance."

The Archon swelled with his utmost pride.

"So that as it is," the Kell growled, "I will take him to the border with me. Then at dawn, we wait for a strike, if it is to happen. Come on, Sorkolis."

Then, the two tread on through the gales of the wind, finally walking for at least an hour or so.

As always, the snowstorm hadn't dimmed in the slightest, but it did provide some cover for the two as they made their way out across the Cosmodrome.

The armor the two wore offered some protective defense against the bales of the snow as it smashed against their armor. So, at least the two knew they could keep at this pace for a while.

Rikantor led the way with her unrelenting legs as she padded down the slope, upper arms worked around a Shrapnel Launcher.

Behind her was the Archon, his fingers currently gripping a Shrapnel Launcher as well. He stumbled over rocks, feeling embarrassed almost against the grace of the Kell. She was a female, he supposed.

Some leaves were stirred up the breeze as the two made their way along. Even the deep tracks of the Pikes were not visible in this weather.

Finally, the Kell decided to speak her words. "This was a bad idea," she admitted, humor lacing her tone in ribbons.

However, the Archon was less amused, but he always found some happiness in his heart for the Kell. "You don't say?" he spat, slinging his arms together as he looked across the peaks for any sign of life.

That got a look shot at him from behind, the Kell's eyes narrowed to slits. "Well, I need proof of this, after all," she growled.

"Hmm," was all Sorkolis would let out.

The inclines got harshly steeper the further the two ascended over the cliff tops. Snow and harsh winds kept back the force of the two as they walked on through the tough gales of the storm.

"This is a mess," the Kell conceded, drawing her lower arms together. "Shall we return?"

Sorkolis cast one glance out behind him. "No," he decided. "We've walked this far, there is no turning back."

Rikantor snorted. "If you insist," she added drily, tapping her fingers against the barrel of her gun.

Snowy cliffs and peaks rose up in the fine layer of mist as the Kell and her Archon bade on their ways through the storm.

Winter-peaked caps lifted up in the area as they were approached, giving the place a misty, unknown haze. Sorkolis was not at all familiar with Earth, but he found some of its architecture intriguing.

Apparently, the Kell did as well, for at some points Sorkolis could find her marveling at some of the things she caught in sight.

It must have, being cooped up in that Throne room all day.

Finally, they had reached the end of the border and were walking on through the dim silence. The Kell glanced behind her shoulder to make sure Sorkolis was still there.

He waved his hand in response.

Assured that she was on the right track, the leader of the King Banner continued picking her way up the paths that winded over hills and tight gaps.

Now the Devil's base could be anywhere from her and any few clicks away. But the storm did not take sides – it might have protected them, but it also protected the enemy as well.

This, the Archon was sure, was what Rikantor found frustrating. She had her lower arms crossed together, and she was eyeing the metal structures up ahead.

"Is there something you might need?" pressed Sorkolis as he bounded ahead a few steps to catch up with his Kell.

At that comment Rikantor shook her head. "No, there isn't. But do you even know where we are going at this point?"

 _No._

Sorkolis shrugged. "Maybe… perhaps that way, up the cliffs. I can recall meeting some steep vantage points while I was out on the Pikes earlier."

The Kell trusted his word and began making her way up the sharp inclines, using her once-crossed lower arms to help provide some assistance for scaling the rocks and crannies that she could use as handholds. Once she was up, she looked back down at her Archon.

After he had managed to push himself over the rocks, the two made out of their way. But the storm got ever thick, and the Kell more frustrated. And the two more… lost.

"You can't know where we are going at this stage…" groaned the Kell as she fumbled her hand over the Shrapnel Launcher. "Let's go back."

The Archon snorted. "I have to admit, I really don't know where 'back' is, from now. We just have to keep on moving."

Curling her fingers, Rikantor snarled, "So you have been leading me into nothing for the past hour and a half?"

"Of course not, I would never do that. But I can't recall passing by these fallen boats and ships. Perhaps we took a wrong turn," Sorkolis offered.

The Kell was done. "Enough, forget I ever asked about the siege. Which way is home?"

Gyrating to face the cliffs, the Archon admit, he had no idea.

"How would I know?"

Rikantor squatted over and held her hands up to her face, clearly frustrated. "I've had enough of this. Night is coming and we're both lost out here. Come on." She started trotting off in another direction.

Having no choice but to follow, Sorkolis was led to some rocks that provided protection as a natural defense. The Kell felt along the walls before she found some gaps. Then she ducked under and in.

"What are you doing?" requested the Archon as he tipped his head to look into the gap.

Resting her Shrapnel Launcher to the side, Rikantor snorted, "Going to sleep. I have Ether that I am on the verge to preserving right now. If you want to freeze, I recommend you stay out there. That armor guard only lasts ever so long."

Sorkolis watched with a wrinkled nose as the Kell fidgeted to the side a bit and offered the Archon some room. "Well?" she demanded.

Giving up his dilemma, Sorkolis ducked under the arch and found himself uncomfortably pressed up against the side of the Kell, and the heat rose up on his face. "Were… there any bigger ones?" he requested.

"Not that I am aware of," Rikantor snorted. "But would you just sleep? The Guard will hate this, but I am doing what is vital for my surviving of the night."

Failing to respond, the Archon smooched himself against the rocky floor of the ground, using his cape as a rather rough but comfortable blanket.

"Rest well," offered Sorkolis as he put his head down against the stone.

Beside him, Rikantor was also trying with all her might to make herself comfortable on the ground of the caverns. "And you as well," she responded, before going silent.

Adjusting himself slightly, the Archon put his head down and let the bonds of sleep overwhelm him as he was pressed against the wintery touch of his Kell.

* * *

"That does not give me an explanation as to why you both were out in the snowstorm last night! Do you not realize you could have been jumped and hung on a wall?"

The Kell's Guard had been undermining the whole problem as Rikantor waved him off absent mindedly. "Well, it didn't happen, did it? So it really doesn't matter. Get back to your posts, now!"

Scowling, the Vandal gyrated and began making his way down the stairs that creaked beneath every footstep.

Turning back around to face her Archon, the Kell assured, "Now you may go out and scout the cliffs behind the Terrestrial Complex for any intruders from the Hive. I'll be here."

With those words, Rikantor padded after the Kell's Guard and began making her way back to the Throne room.

Sorkolis watched the Kell leave for a moment or two, then he made his way to the Dispatch Zone for some units. However, the only ones there were a Captain, two Vandals, and four Dregs.

"Let's get this over with," snorted the Archon. "We're scanning the mountains behind our base for foreign invaders. Do I make myself clear?"

The fleet nodded.

Sorkolis dipped his head. "Let's go. We don't have much time to waste after all of this. We'll go up there and see if the Hive is roosted among those cliffs. Word let me out that they crashed a dropship onto our land. Shannu was among them."

That got a few gasps from the warriors.

"Do not worry. If we see Shannu, we will not engage. Hopefully we will not find him there. Let's move out. Use Pikes, so we can have a chance to escape if the time need be."

Once the group was all mounted up, they started making their way along the snowy caps of Old Russia. A fine breeze stirred up some sticks, and the aerial scent was heavy with decay.

The Archon navigated the Cosmodrome and banked heavily right, making his way along the alcoves of the Terrestrial Complex. The walls of the Refinery provided some space for the group as they rode along in their Pikes.

Finally, they breached the back of the massive structure and looked out along the many spires of rust and debris.

It was already clear that a Hive dropship had been crashed. The green-and-black pavilions were sticking straight up at an awkward angle, and the air was heavy with the musk of the Hive. Sorkolis was glad he was wearing a gas mask.

"Is that them?" requested a Captain as he slowed down his bronze Pike for a better look.

The Archon scanned the walls. Shannu could have been anywhere at this point. "Yes," he breathed out. "Whatever you do, make sure you're not found."

Rolling out over the snowy peaks, the patrol eyed the green ship as it stuck out of the ground. Clearly, around the base of the pod, were a few Acolytes who seemed to be attempting repairs for the vessel.

Standing over the horde of them was a massive Knight. Luckily, it was not Shannu, for the ghoulish Hive warrior was easily distinguishable for his eighteen-foot-tall form and burned red eyes.

No, the Hive Knight was not born with those red eyes. They indeed, were scalded viciously with the hideous effect of Moon Acid. Those three eyes had been burned to death.

The Knight shouted something in the Hive language and pointed his finger at the pavilions. The others immediately obliged and got to working on that area of the ship, and moving quickly.

"Are they trying to get out of here?" requested one of the Dregs as he further scoured the clearing for any vital intel.

Shrugging, Sorkolis growled, "Possibly. But they might also be trying a backup plan if they need one. Or getting comm systems online if the ship is that badly damaged. I'm not about to go in and find out."

The Captain leaned forward and asked, "Does anyone have a visual on Shannu?"

"Not that I'm aware of," responded one of the Vandals.

A Dreg added, "Negative."

Scowling, the Captain snorted, "Well, the sooner we do, the better."

"Maybe he's right behind you!" snickered another one of the four Dregs.

The Captain bared his teeth at the two. "That's not even funny!" he snarled, about to eradicate the Fallen warrior.

Sorkolis put his hand between the two of them. "Enough!" he roared fiercely. "There will be no taunts. You might just get us all killed." With his muscles feathering, he added to the Dreg, "And respect your elders, fool!"

"Sorry," obeyed the Dreg, though one of the Vandals lashed out at him and caused scarlet blood to ripple along the snow.

The group watched for a few more minutes. Finally, Sorkolis had an idea.

"The rest of you stay here. I'm going to investigate the Hive dropship."

Immediately, that got the Captain's attention. "No way! Bad call."

Scowling, Sorkolis shot that member of the fleet a harsh look. "What are the chances of my death? I can take on a few measly Hive warriors. Shannu is a problem, on the other hand. He is likely scouting right now."

"Oh, very well," snorted one of the Vandals. "Just try to hurry back, will you? Whatever are you even going for, Sorkolis?"

The Archon responded powerfully, "To investigate their remains. I will further damage the ship while I am there so they cannot take off with it. That way they cannot report to their leaders."

With those words, the group seemed alright, but very affronted and clearly confused at the whole matter. Sorkolis hoped he would not be the cause of more deaths or else he would be a Dreg very soon. And there was no way he was allowing that to happen. So, sucking up his gut, he started out over the snowy cliffs towards the Hive dropship ahead of him. How bad could this really be? Shannu wasn't even here.

Once inside of the massive structure, Sorkolis worked his way around. The interior featured green holographic computer screens and ancient technology. As the Archon had predicted, there seemed not to be any comms online or working.

Three Acolytes were bent over and examining the threshold of the ship, their fingers working around wires and other materials. They seemed bent back into the work as if it was a major component in their campaign.

Perking up his ears to hear better, Sorkolis remembered a vaguely familiar screeching residing down the halls of the ship's interior. Feeling himself stiffen, the Archon remembered that voice.

Omnigul, the Will of Crota.

Also one of Crota's favored lovers.

Shannu's mother.

The Wizard was pointed at some figures on a holographic screen, lip twitching slightly. The bright hue of her eyes just added to the muffled darkness of the dropship, and she was scowling irritably.

Floating over to the device, she grabbed an Acolyte out of the way and hissed, "Where is that wretch Arcena? She assured me she would be back at this time."

 _Wonder why she isn't more fluent with her own language… Possibly picked up some hints of everything, or they have artifacts._

An Acolyte shrugged helplessly. _"Dan vians_ _û_ _taa."_ Although Sorkolis had no idea what that meant in reality, he had a few guesses. Maybe Omnigul's response would leave clues?

"Thanks for being so helpful, oaf." Omnigul, despite her sadistic nature, seemed to be using the tiniest hints of sarcasm in her words. "Prepare the Ritual of Awakening."

Sorkolis watched with burning eyes as the Acolytes turned away from the General and began crouching over on the ground, setting their guns aside simply to have them out of the way.

As they began to murmur a few things, the Archon shoved himself out of the fissure in the wall and starting edging his way down the attenuated hallways of the Hive dropship. As long as he was not caught here, his security was assured. But if he was, things would have to turn tides.

Knowing that the other Fallen were still awaiting his presence on the exterior of the ship, the Archon pressed his way down the halls and started weaving around the narrow corridors.

Maybe there was a control room around here.

Nudging a nearby door open, Sorkolis could have grinned on the spot as he saw the generator and power cores. There were a few Hive Acolytes working on that as well, but with a few Shrapnel Launcher shots they were all sprawled on the floor.

Hopping over to some of the cords, the Archon tugged at a cable sticking out of the generator, hoping to disable some functions. Maybe there were no intruder alerts…

Ripping open a pressurized tension spring, Sorkolis continued hacking down at the ship's interior with his blade that he always had attached to his belt.

Steam poured out of the fissures in the side of the cables and cords, and the generator starting flashing dangerously. Viridescent lights glowed from the inside of the massive power core, and an alarm was already springing to life.

 _Self-destruction? It's my turn to get out of here._

Quietly slipping out of the core, Omnigul had already been to the core in seconds. Meeting eye contact with the Archon, the Wizard screeched furiously.

Now, she started talking in her actual tongue, any other accent gone altogether as she shouted demands, _"Vinn Ärgen! Omntģul beeu an regaú!"_

Sorkolis had to admit – he had no idea what they were saying now.

Turning tail to flee down the hallway, he scrambled up faster once the ship countdown started to excel at a pretty fascinating speed. Heart racing, he turned down the narrow shelving and darted for the exit.

Omnigul must have known that he was going to escape, because she simply turned around and flew to the closest opening as well, breaking free from the bonds of the countdown.

It was the time that Sorkolis returned to the other Fallen that he slowed himself down to a stop, glancing over his shoulder periodically as he watched the ship explode and crumbled to the floor with a crash.

Omnigul down below now looked half-furious, and half-petrified.

Have fun reporting that to your Master.

The Captain leapt off of his bronze Pike, cape flailing after him majestically. "They spotted you?" he demanded, crossing both sets of arms together. "You were found?"

Dipping his head, Sorkolis responded, "It would seem as such. We need to return to the Kell and report her of our finds. I'm deterred whether or not to say she will be pleased."

"Likely not. The Hive will want revenge against your actions. They could strike at any moment, as far as I know." The Captain also seemed affronted, as if Oryx himself had just shown up.

Mounting up on his Pike, Sorkolis assured the clearly-terrified warrior of the fleet, "Do not be startled. We will fight against any opposition we raise our blades against. Omnigul with likely be having problems with Crota for this anyway. From what I saw, there was vital information on that ship. Look at her – she's terrified."

It was visible even from that spot that the Hive Wizard was stunned. She trembled furiously, and from just even the look on her face, it was clear that she just as scared as a young Eliksni to his first battle.

" _Ghanrudar._ That much is clear," offered the Captain as he boarded back up on his Pike. "We should get out of here. Omnigul will want your head for this."

Sorkolis knew, despite how much he wished not, that the warrior's statement was true. Sighing, the Archon tapped his fingers against the holographic monitors of the Golden Pike. "Very well. If that is what you would want."

So the patrol starting making their way back to campsite for news. Of course, it was about 30 percent good news and 70 percent bad.

Yet again, with the Hive, what else was there to expect?

* * *

"That is troubling news," scoffed the Kell as she drew her lower arms together, the higher ones tapping against the arms of her Throne. "No casualties however, Sorkolis?"

The massive Archon shook his head. "No, there wasn't. But the Hive dropship is eradicated, and with it a few Acolytes. That was my doing."

"So the only thing you did was put a new target on the back of the House Kings?"

 _Um…_

Sorkolis shook his mighty head. "Of course not! I was helping us out. Omnigul was attempting to reach her Master through the dropship comms. She started the Ritual of Awakening to summon him from his rest on the Moon."

Rikantor tipped her head one way. "How do you know this?" she asked, eyes narrowed. "You don't understand the Hive's language."

"She wasn't fluent in her own tongue, I guess. She was speaking Fallen for the time I was there. I heard some Hive shortly afterwards. She spoke enough for me to know."

The Kell snorted and perked her ears up. "If you insist. Hopefully Omnigul realizes her mistakes."

Smirking, the Archon promised, "Oh trust me. She does."

Rikantor's eyes betrayed her amusement. "Oh. That should be entertaining."

"Hope she gets punished dearly, for the Prime Servitor's sake." Sorkolis put one of his four arms on his belts, eyes twinkling in the din of the low lighting. "That is all I had yet to report to you, my liege."

Clearly the Kell would have liked him to stay, Sorkolis saw that much in her blistering gaze. "Very well," she responded, waving one of her upper appendages. "You may go."

The Archon turned and pushed open the door slightly, as always receiving thunderous glares from the Guard as he went. Shooting them the same look, Sorkolis trotted down and into the hallways beyond.

Perching on one of the steps was the Baron, fingers twined together. "Sorkolis, sir," he countered. "I have some news that you might find of interest."

Gyrating and reluctantly hesitating in the hallway, Sorkolis barked, "What is it?"

"Over the last day I went back to the Devil's camp to see what they were planning. Well… they are planning on invasion."

The Archon's heart dropped to his feet like a rock was pressed against it. Feeling a cool chill run up his spine, he demanded breathlessly, "When are they coming?"

That caused the Baron to pause.

"They should be on their way right this moment."

Sorkolis hissed, "Impossible."

The Baron shook his head. "Not, actually. You'd better go let the Guard know."

Darting back to the Kell's Chamber, Sorkolis grabbed ahold of one of the Guard's shoulders and growled, "We're under attack!"

Interest and disbelief sparked in the Eliksni's gaze. "Attack?" he asked, clearly startled. "By whom?"

"Devil Banner."

Immediately, the Guard turned for the Chamber and dashed inside, followed by two more of his own. A few seconds later, the Kell came out, shouting orders at nearby Fallen warriors.

Troops ran out of their barracks as they were ordered by their leader who they swore allegiance to.

Sorkolis dashed towards the exit and watched, as the narrow snout of a Noble Walker turned the corner towards the base of the Kings.

Fearfully, the Archon knew it would take forever to tack up what they could for the House of King's Walkers and soldiers. From the Dispatch Zone walked out a few scout teams, led by Captains towards their enemy.

That singular red laser of the Noble Walker turned to point at the Refinery's walls.

 _Boom!_

A narrow shell collided with the metal hull of the building. Rumbles ran through the floor as the crash took place, sending a few Dregs toppling over one another. Sorkolis ran out through the Dispatch Zone, snagging ahold of his Shrapnel Launcher.

Devil troops followed after the Walker, bringing rain of fire across the base. Sorkolis snarled in hatred as he watched a Devil Captain leading a sneak patrol around.

Barreling forward to end their campaign, a few shots of a Shrapnel Launcher sent the off their feet. The Captain took two shots, but eventually he was felled in a splatter of blood. The Devil gagged for a moment before he fell into the plush snow.

Vulgantor and Yunatir were running out of the camp as well, pointing their Scorch Cannons at anyone nearby. Countless Dregs and Vandals were felled by their hand.

Sorkolis watched as the line of a Wire Rifle attempted to shut him out. Taking evasive action, the Archon whirled out of the way and ducked down beneath some cover. Shock Pistol shots rattled down the side of the metal he'd hid beneath as he avoided the glare of the Devils before him.

Stealth Vandals were creeping around the fortress as they wielded their deadly Shock Blades, pressing on in tight numbers as they did. Everything seemed to be happening so quickly – one moment talking to the Kell, now out here on the field.

Up above, another Devil Walker shot the exterior of the Refinery, and a cool thought ran down Sorkolis' spine.

 _They're trying to bring the whole thing down!_

It wasn't like the Archon would let that happen. Stumbling forward, Sorkolis pointed his Shrapnel Launcher at the legs of the Walker, opening fire upon the metal hull.

Shuddering, the gargantuan piece of machinery turned to focus on him, releasing Shank Drones from inside of it to deliberately draw the Archon's focus away from the Tank.

Multiple rounds of fire crashed into the side of the Archon, and Sorkolis let out a pained _grrrr!_ Using one of his lower arms to clutch his bleeding wound, the mighty warrior of the fleet continued shooting down the Shanks that threatening to rip him down.

Although he knew they would not do much, the Drones were stronger than they looked. Initially, the House of Devils would have been destroyed, but the Kings were weak and desperate at this point. Too weak to even know anymore. Too weak to care.

Vulgantor and his best friend, Yunatir, were too busy with their Scorch Cannons to assist their field leader. Vermilion blasts of their gun sent another troop of Dregs flailing through the air before landing lifelessly in the snow, crippled and deceased.

Turning its huge snout, the Devil Walker continued to bring down whatever it could of the King's base. Sorkolis growled fiercely.

More Dregs and a Captain ran down the incline of the snowy hill, aiming their Shock Pistols at the Archon, daring him to shoot. Exposing himself from the metal cover briefly, Sorkolis took down that group with his Shrapnel Launcher.

Scarlet blood flew through the air and stained the snow vermilion with life source. The Captain pulled up his own weapon and continued to bring fire; yet again he was countered with another explosive shell and rattled to the ground in a mere few seconds.

Making sure as to not cut his cape or get it stuck on something, he used his lower arms and held the adornment back as he continued to shoot down more red-colored Devils from the field.

Again, the tank launcher another bullet. Sorkolis at this point had had enough of its wrath. Charging forward through the snow, the Archon lunged at the machine viciously.

Blade met metal as the mighty warrior and Priest impaled the hull of the Walker, immediately erupted a fissure. Smoke leaked through the tears as he continued to drag his knife down the side of the heavy Tank.

Alarms on the inside of the weapon started to rattle and burn hideously. Gears grinded for power which it was losing faster. The whole thing started to swing around, not aiming correctly or standing up straight.

Ripping open another hole in the side of the Devil Walker, Sorkolis watched as the thing eventually died down, thrashing and convulsing all over the place before eventually ending down in the snow.

Cheers sounded from the Kings as they lifted their weapons with pride. But the Devils were frenzied – attempting to kill anything in sight.

Vulgantor, from across the field, was still aiming down his Scorch Cannon at anything that was stained with the color red.

Sorkolis could clearly hear a Dreg screech, "If only Drevis were still with us, that blasted traitor Skolas!"

Since they now lacked a Tank, the Devils were beginning to retreat, backing up and almost tripping in their amount of blood they had riled up. A Captain roared at the successors of the battle, as he turned the corner and fled.

From that point on, silence had muffled the hue of the midday sun.

"Let's go," breathed out Yunatir as she started heading up the slope to the King's campsite. "We still have a few days of healing ahead of us."

Sorkolis watched the two remaining Scorch Captains make their way up the path, and the Priest, still clutching his arm, followed the incline after the two. Countless bodies lay useless on the ground, devastated from the Walker.

Debris covered the ground, for as far as the Archon could see. Snorting, he asked darkly, "What happened to the inside of the camp? Is everyone alright?"

Yunatir glanced over her shoulder and shrugged helplessly. "Who knows? I just need some rest. This fight was too much, especially since I was still recovering from the border battle with Drevis from just a few days ago." Across from her Vulgantor was nodding in agreement, his Scorch Cannon slung over his shoulder. Sorkolis wished he could do something to soothe their pain, but he currently lacked any good ideas to begin with…

Using his upper arm to slam open the door, Sorkolis observed the wreckage that the Devil Walker had caused. Cargo and other things were laying over the floor.

One Dreg had a massive block of concrete over his head as he lay on the ground, a bloody smear underneath the mess of it all.

A few feet away, the Kell was pinned down with some concrete trapping her leg to the floor. Springing to her aid, Sorkolis shoved off the burden and looked at the wound, touching the indent slightly with his finger. "Are you well, my liege? Not too badly hurt?"

Wincing, Rikantor offered, "I'm fine, thank you. Just a flesh wound. How are the others?"

Casting one look back towards the Dreg that had his head crushed with a block of cement, the Archon guessed, "Alright, I suppose. We won the battle, my Kell. The Devils retreated."

"Good," praised the leader of the King Banner, receding her leg to help stop the bleeding. "This is a victory we will not take lightly. But as far as you can tell, the Walker did some damage to the inside of the building."

Again, the Archon felt his gaze rip over the walls, and he nodded. "I very well can. Let me help you up, my Kell. You must be feeling tired up to this point. You need rest. Shall I retrieve some Ether from the Servitors to feed to you?"

Rikantor shook her mighty head. "No, I do not. What I will need to assure however is the security of the Kings. We might need to move if the Devils decide to bring another Walker."

"We beat them out of here harshly. Chances are they will not return for some time. If they do, they are desperate to have us dead."

The Kell attempted to pick herself to her legs, but her eyes flitted to Sorkolis' wound. "You're hurt!" she snarled, grabbing his lower left arm with her upper ones. "Go get to the Healers, Sorkolis."

Enjoying the concern of his leader but not allowing his safety before hers, the Archon painfully yanked his arm away and bared his teeth. "You first!" he growled, pointing at her leg wound. "You need it more than I do."

Scoffing but knowing she had no choice, the Kell started to make her way down the halls, bounding over any debris in the way.

"You will heal yourself, though, right?" requested the leader of the King Banner as she turned to focus of her loyal Archon. "I do not want to waste a ton of medicine on myself when your wound is much more vicious than my own."

Sorkolis snorted. "You're not _wasting it,_ my liege." Crossing his higher arms while his lower ones clutched each other in their agony, he added huskily, "How dare you come to think of such a response? You, my Kell, are the most vital piece of our House. If anyone is allowed to live, you are the one."

Rikantor smiled, however much it was not visible to the Archon's perspective. "Why thank you," she growled. "But we both need to heal. We can get to that in an hour's running time. If that's okay with you?"

The Archon snorted and grinned right back at her.

"Of course, my Kell."

* * *

Three days later, the Kell and her loyal Archon were healed and set up, prepared. Luckily neither of their wounds were too deep or heavily inflicted as such. Vulgantor, the Baron, Yunatir, and most Dregs, Vandals, and Captains had all recovered from the injuries as well.

Life had returned to normal, with some cleanup of course.

Sorkolis sighed as he patrolled the Halls of his beloved home. Things had been silent these past three days.

The Devils, for the most part, had not shown up again. Not a word of Omnigul, Shannu, Crota, or Guardians, either. Which was wrecking nerves in the Archon, but he set that aside.

The Baron sat down on the steps of the Kell's Chamber, sharpening his Shock Blade. His eyes flitted up Sorkolis upon his passing by of sorts.

"Any new information on the Hive?" he asked, readjusting his blade into the firm pocket on his belt.

Shaking his head, Sorkolis offered, "Not that I'm aware of. We already have Trackers on route to their locations, however. We're attempting to pick up some vital signs from Shannu and his mother, Omnigul."

"Good," assured the Baron as he got up from his previous position. "May the Prime Servitors watch over you, Sorkolis. Have you been paying attention to your wounds? No infection and whatnot?"

"No," promised the Archon as he slung his arms together. "But I failed to ask – what wounds did you receive when the Devils surged our home? Hopefully nothing too… fatal, if I may ask?"

That made the Baron also shake his head. "No. In fact, I got a bruise, but not much else. Seems I should be okay."

"Very well then, my friend. I hope you rest well."

"Thank you, sir. I intend for the best to you as you go along with your duties."

With those words of regard, the two Fallen warriors drew away from each other. Sorkolis continued to patrol the hallways, Shrapnel Launcher slung over his mighty shoulders as he walked.

It was no longer than two more steps when one of the Kell's Guard came tumbling down the path towards the Archon.

"Yes?" demanded Sorkolis as he reaffirmed his gaze on the Vandal.

"The Kell would like to see you, sir."

As the Archon gyrated, the Guard reached out with his lower right arm and stopped the traversal of his companion.

"Not that way, Sorkolis. She is on the border. We received a transmission from her just a minute ago. She is with a majority of the army on the borders. And she has requested your presence with her."

Stiffening, Sorkolis growled, "What is the _Kell_ doing away from the safety of our reaches?"

The Guard promised, "It was on her own accord. She would just prefer it if you went off to see her. Be there soon – it's urgent."

Scoffing, the Archon made his way to the Dispatch Zone for his Golden Pike. Tacking it up and mounting on, Sorkolis rode slightly over the hills and snowy caps of the Cosmodrome. A cold breeze had stirred up the fur on his neck, and his long cape blew after him majestically as he rode along the narrow cliffs of Old Russia.

Finally, he could see the silhouette of the warriors on the peak of the alcoves and cliffs, all clustered together to keep warm. Among them all, the tallest of them, was Rikantor, and she looked worried for the time being. She noticed her Archon coming up the cliff towards her, and she couldn't hide her smile.

Pulling his Pike up to a stop, Sorkolis jumped off the heavy vehicle and crashed down in the snow, shaking off any bits of the white substance as he could from his boots.

"Is there something you would like, my Kell?" demanded the Archon as he trudged up the pathway to where Rikantor was standing, her cape flailing behind her.

The Kell dipped her head. "There very much is," she snorted, casting her eyes down the scene below her. Evening rays of the sun cast an orange glow against the armor of the leader. "Look."

Sorkolis nudged aside his leader before looking down. Standing in the pit below was the Hive. _Tons of them._ Lined up row after row with scimitars raised to the skyline.

Shuddering, Sorkolis turned to his leader and asked, "You will not partake in this battle, will you? You need your rest. But at least I can tell why you brought over half of the army here with you."

The Kell shook her head as she turned to the pits below, cape majestically rippling streaks of golden in the breeze. "No, I will not be here. It is too dangerous for a Kell."

Silence overwhelmed the two Fallen as they stood in the peaceful silence, observing the army down below them.

Sorkolis looked over at his leader, her eyes transfixed on the battle that was sure to come down in the pits below. Hive dropships continued to teleport in the clearing, only leaving more of the soldiers they would have to eradicate.

Finding the peace between the two comforting, the Archon turned to look at his leader for a split second, the waves of sun hitting off her armor and reflecting into the fight below. The fight sure to respond soon.

Finally, the Kell turned to look at her Archon. "I… wanted to give you this, Sorkolis," she whispered placidly, removing an adornment from off her neck and holding it out to the taller Archon.

Looking down at the ornament, the Archon reached out for it and felt it between his fingers. A few feathers lined the necklace, and printed down on it was a small totem with Rikantor's name written across the top of it.

Sorkolis enveloped the whole thing in his palm before he focused back up on his leader. "Thank you…" he murmured.

"So we can stay close… always be together. Sorkolis… I -"

A Hive Acolyte roared down below, breaking the peace between the two Fallen.

Sucking up her gut, the Kell reached for the Archon's hand and whispered, "Please be safe, my Archon."

"Of course," promised Sorkolis as he tightened his grip on Rikantor's hand.

The Kell smiled, before releasing her grip on the Archon's unyielding, massive hands.

"After all," Sorkolis continued, "What's the worst that could happen?"


End file.
